The Soft Snowflakes Kiss Us
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: Christmas is a time to be happy, even if the rest of the year you're surrounded by darkness. And, even in the face of cancer, Morgan isn't about to let Emily forget that... Companion to One Flickering Candle in the Window.
1. No If's, And's, Or But's

_December 1st - No If's, And's, or But's_

"What are you doing here?" Morgan asked in surprise.

After December had started off on such a horrible note, the day had seemed a complete wash-out. By the end of the day, it seemed a toss-up between drowning his gloom in alcohol, hoping to forget, or getting an early start on Christmas preparations in the hopes of cheering himself up.

In the end, he was torn and hadn't been able to decide, but he had been driving home at the time and was stopped at a red light with a little bar on the corner and had just let that make the decision for him.

He had then been quite surprised when, approaching the bar and flagging down the bartender, he had ran into Emily. She was sitting alone in a dark corner of the bar, downing what appeared to be her third or fourth glass of liquor.

She looked up at him as he sat down next to her and attempted to smile, but it was weak and forced, not quite reaching her eyes. Almost immediately, the smile was gone, replaced by sadness. He couldn't help but notice from the slight reddish tint to her eyes and the faint way her make-up was smudged that she had been crying. Not that he could blame her...

She shrugged in reply to his question, not really sure what had lead her there. "I could ask you the same thing," she deflected.

He mirrored her non-committal gesture, but answered nonetheless, "I couldn't decide between starting to get ready for Christmas and getting drunk..."

She pursed her lips together and gave an unlady-like snort before pounding back the rest of her drink and signalling to the bartender for another.

He raised an eyebrow at her response to the mention of Christmas. "What?"

"I just didn't peg you as the 'Christmas spirit' kinda guy..."

Now he was more confused than ever. "Why not?"

"Never mind," she shook her head.

"Well," he said, unfazed, "I _love _Christmas... My favorite time of year. Can't think of anything I like better."

"Of course," she said under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"Are you seriously telling me you _don't _like Christmas?" he asked as if she had just uttered serious blasphemy.

"No," she said, attempting an air of finality.

"Come on," he pressed, not about to let her get away that easily, "No one hates Christmas... What don't you like about it?"

"What's there to like?" she deadpanned, "It doesn't mean anything, it's just another day with a little more hype, a little more craziness..." She sighed. "And considering what we learned today, I can't see how you can possibly be thinking about this month being anything besides gloomy..."

He frowned. "All the more reason to make an extra effort to be cheerful."

She rolled her eyes again. "Forgive me for being Scrooge, but I just don't see that happening. Now or ever."

He knew that there had to be more to the story than just what she was telling him, there was something more behind why she didn't like Christmas. And he was determined to find out what it was. Because he just couldn't stand to see her so upset. Notwithstanding the fact that he was madly in love with her and wanted nothing more than for her to happy, preferably in his arms.

This seemed like the perfect chance to make that happen... And, if not, she was his best friend and he couldn't just let her be so jaded about the happiest time of the year.

"I don't accept that," he said resolutely.

She scoffed, a little surprised, "You don't _accept _that? I don't really think that's something..." She stopped talking suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath of surprise, as he placed a hand on her knee and swivelled her bar stool around so she was looking him in the eye.

He hadn't noticed when he placed his hand on her knee, having done it reflexively, but noticing the way she immediately froze up at his touch, he quickly pulled his hand away as if burned. "I'm going to make you like Christmas. No if's, and's, or but's." He couldn't help but want to put his hand back on her leg...and other places. He immediately had to squash down such dangerous thoughts, reminding himself that right now she was just his friend and such thoughts would almost definitely get him in trouble.

She raised an eyebrow challengingly, "And just how do you plan on doing that?"

"It's a surprise," he said quickly to disguise the fact that, at this point, he had no idea whatsoever how he would manage that. "But I guarantee that you'll never look at Christmas the same again."

"You're on," she smirked, once again draining her drink.

He snatched her keys from her hand. "Come on, I'm driving you home; this is no way to spend the first day of December."

For a second, she looked as if she were about to press the matter, but after several seconds of silence in which she opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, she just sighed and relented, "Okay."

She moved to slide off her seat to stand, but was off-balance the second her feet hit the floor. "Whoa..." he said, quickly moving to her side to steady her.

"I guess I had a little more to drink than I thought," she said.

"Just a little..." As he slung her arm over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, he felt a little tug at his heart-strings, wishing more than anything that he could hold her close more often.


	2. Like It Or Not

_December 2nd - Like It Or Not_

Apparently, Morgan had greatly under-estimated just how stubborn Emily would be when it came to converting her to loving Christmas. Which was really saying something, considering that he didn't know anyone as stubborn as her and he was fully expecting to come face-to-face with brick wall of iron-willed resistance. But it was quickly becoming clear that he might have to physically kidnap her and force her to do anything remotely Christmas-y.

He hadn't even been able to convince her to join the Christmas tree expedition.

_That day, for the first time, he had really paid attention to the determined indifference with which she regarded everything remotely festive. Her desk seemed to be the only one without at least one decoration on it, she didn't even have so much as a candy cane. Her patience with anyone exceedingly in the Christmas spirit was decidedly short. If she dressed in red it was purely by coincidence. It almost seemed as if she were going out of her way to be gloomy._

_He began to wonder if, now that there was no alcohol in her system, she would still agree to letting him force her to celebrate something she so obviously vehemently opposed. Or if she would even remember._

"_Do you have a tree?" he had asked, trying to get a feel for whether or not she would be receptive to their agreement._

"_No," she answered simply._

"_So, why don't you come with us to get one tonight?"_

"_No." Clearly, she wasn't about to easily accept defeat._

"_That doesn't really answer my question..."_

"_I just don't want to, okay?" she had lashed out, a little more rattled than perhaps altogether necessary or expected._

"_Okay, that's fine," he placated. Perhaps small steps would be the best approach. "Why don't you just come over to my place later instead."_

"_Morgan..." she had started to argue. She stopped, seeing his expression. Determined stance deflating slightly, she conceded, "Sure."_

******

There was a knock on his door just as he was attempting to keep his Christmas tree from falling over. It seemed bent on not remaining upright despite his best efforts and a tree-stand that had yet to fail him.

"Just a minute," he called out as he disentangled himself from the branches, scratching himself on the needles in the process. Standing back for another moment, he admired his handiwork/made sure the tree wasn't going to fall over the second he turned his back, before hurrying to answer the door.

When he opened the door, Emily was doing her very best to look annoyed, but couldn't help the small smile that flitted across her face at the sight of him. "You're covered in pine needles," she pointed out as she purposefully forced back her grin.

"I'll have to vacuum myself," he shrugged, flashing his brightest smile. "The tree didn't want to stay upright," he explained, "But now that I've, hopefully, got it stable, I figured you could help me decorate."

She raised an eyebrow. "So, this was a trap... Now that I'm here, you figure I'd help just because I came all this way..."

"I _told _you I was going to make you enjoy Christmas whether you like it or not. Your say in the matter is officially over. Besides, you already agreed," he pointed out.

"You're twisting my words," she argued.

"Okay, well, you didn't say no."

"I was drunk..."

"Just tipsy."

She sighed exaggeratedly, "Fine, I'll help. But I'm not going to like it."

We'll see..." He took her coat and ushered her into the living room where the tree was, remarkably, still standing, waiting to be adorned with shiny baubles.

"You're not going to play Christmas carols as we work, are you?" she asked as he opened several boxes, searching for the ones containing the ornaments.

"Well, I was going to, but I guess we'll just take baby steps; no carols today." He set several boxes on the coffee table and pulled out a few ornaments. "Don't worry," he assured, "I'm not one of those Martha Stewart wanna-be's who have a themed tree, I don't care how you decorate it."

Gingerly digging in one of the boxes, she pulled out a series of hand-made ornaments and had to fight not to burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked from where he was hanging his ornaments on the higher branches of the tree.

She held up the ornaments. "You were very artistic, I see..."

He frowned as he watched her carefully study the ornaments. "Hey, give me a break," he said, feigning hurt, "I was like six when I made those."

"And Picasso you were not..." she giggled.

"Just put them on the tree," he scowled. She laughed again as she carefully looped them over the branches. "See," he pointed out, "You're enjoying yourself doing something Christmas-y..."

"Nope," she said, shaking her head, "Just laughing at you. And I can do that any time of year."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. We both know I'm right."

"Nope."

******

They sat back admiring the decorated tree, drinking egg nog mixed with a healthy amount of rum. Emily frowned as she looked around his apartment which certainly wasn't lacking in the area of Christmas spirit. Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "Why are you so determined to make me like Christmas?"

"Because only the Grinch hates Christmas."

"I'm serious," she said, "Why can't you just accept that I don't like it? I'm happy being a Scrooge."

He sighed, "I don't know what happened to make you dislike Christmas, but whatever it was, it's making you miss out." He shifted on the couch to be able to look her in the eyes. "There was one year where I decided I hated Christmas... The year after my Dad died. Every year we'd decorate the tree as a family, he'd sneak cookies out of the freezer for him and me to eat, he'd complain about how the lights always got tangled no matter how neatly they were put away, but the best part was when he'd lift me up to reach the very top of the tree so that I could put the star on. Every year. And then, after he died, no one really felt like celebrating anything; I guess we just weren't in a really merry place. That year, all I asked Santa for was to bring back my Dad. I slept on the couch that night, waiting for my Dad to walk through the door, but he never did...

"At first, I was angry and I vowed that I would never celebrate Christmas again because I couldn't have the one thing I really wanted. But, sooner or later, I realized that hating Christmas wasn't going to change anything. My Dad wasn't coming back whether I celebrated or not, but when he was still alive, Christmas was the time of year I felt closest to him. So, I decided that I would make an extra effort to keep that happiness even when he couldn't be there. And, after that, whenever I celebrated, it was like I could feel him there with me again..."

Her eyes were glassy when she softly breathed, "I'm sorry..."

"I just want you to be able to have that same feeling; like whenever you hear the first Christmas song on the radio or see the first decorations in the store windows, everything bad just washes away and, even for a short while, everything seems right with the world."

For a moment, she just sat there, gaze distant and unfocused as if lost in some far off memory. After a minute, she seemed to snap back to reality and she unexpectedly started to tear up. He pulled her into a hug, reassuringly running a hand over her back. "You're a good guy," she whispered against his chest.

He hugged her a little tighter, feeling that he had broken down her wall a little, that he had gotten through to her, that she might start to give in to his efforts and, sooner or later, let him know what had happened in her past that had extinguished her Christmas spirit.


	3. I Promise You That

_December 3rd - I Promise You That_

"I'll give you a few pointers on faking Christmas spirit," Morgan told Emily as he drove them to Garcia's apartment to help her decorate. "Or you'll seriously depress everyone with your gloominess."

She rolled her eyes. "I think I know how to fake it..."

He glanced over at her, raising a brow, expressing his thoughts with looks alone.

She reached across to smack his chest. "Not like _that_..." He chuckled to himself as she rolled her eyes again; his mind once again started straying down dangerous paths. "I meant, I've been pretending to like Christmas long enough that I think I can manage convincingly for a few hours."

"Well, you're a good actress, but you're not _that _good... Take it from a Christmas spirit expert, you could do with a few refresher courses."

"Alright, let me have it," she sighed, knowing he was going to end up telling her whether she wanted the advice or not.

Again, he waggled his brows suggestively.

"Oh, _God_... _Not _like _that_! Could you _please_ get your mind out of the gutter for five minutes?"

He laughed heartily. "Okay, here's what you need to do to make it believable... One:..."

******

The car ride back to Emily's apartment was far too quiet for Morgan's liking. But, from her distant, unfocused gaze, from the way she bit at her lip, he could tell that she was lost in thought and he decided against interrupting.

Something about the past few hours had sent her into a deep reverie. So, they sat in heavy, though not uncomfortable, silence as they travelled the snowy streets through the quaint neighbourhoods.

Finally, as he pulled up outside her building, she spoke for the first time since they left Garcia's. "I was five..." she said softly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"I was five when I stopped believing in Santa, in Christmas..."

Morgan, admittedly a little surprised that she had opened up so soon, turned off the car and turned to her, giving her his full attention. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue, but she was silent for several more moments.

She was purposefully avoiding meeting his eyes, focusing instead on some distant point straight ahead. "That was the year that my father just out of the blue up and left. It was also the year my mother decided to tell me the truth about Christmas... I cried every day that December, because it always used to be the one time of year we at least pretended to be a family, but we didn't even have that anymore... I can't really say that I blame my dad for leaving, not knowing what he had to put up with from my mother... I just wished more than anything that he could have taken me with him. I never had another real Christmas after that. We were always in some foreign country and I had to fake my way through the traditions of some strange culture. Usually, mother didn't even have five minutes to spare to exchange gifts or even wish me a merry Christmas..." Her eyes were misted over with tears and her voice was barely above a whisper. "So, every Christmas eve, I'd cry myself to sleep, wishing we could go back to when we were really a family, pretending that when I woke up it would all just be a horrible dream... And, the next morning, I would just pretend it was any other day..."

Her voice broke and a tear suddenly broke free to race down her pale cheek, freezing in its path from contact with the cold air in the car.

Morgan hadn't realized when, at some point during her story, he reached over to hold her mittened hand. But she hadn't pulled away. Now, tightening his grip on her hand, he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her as he held her tight against his chest, letting her cry.

"I just want to believe in Christmas again..." she whispered against his chest, "I just want to be able to feel that happiness that everyone else does. I don't want to spend another Christmas eve in tears, pretending I'll wake up to something better. I just want to be happy..."

He unconsciously tightened his arms around her, feeling his heart break for her. "Hey," he said, mirroring her soft tone, pulling back slightly so he could look her in the eyes, "I'm gonna do everything in my power to make that happen. If you want to have a happy Christmas, I'll do whatever it takes or die trying. I promise you that."


	4. In These Hallowed Halls

_December 4th - In These Hallowed Halls_

Emily wandered the hospital halls, attempting to find her way back to the chemotherapy ward, but seemed to be failing miserably since she was on a different floor than she remembered. The signs weren't as easy to follow as she might have thought...and apparently, neither was her memory.

Garcia must have been wondering what had happened to her, considering that she had left to get a coffee nearly twenty minutes ago...

She sighed. She didn't want to seem like a loser who had managed to get lost in a hospital, but it was looking like she was just going to have to bite the bullet and ask someone for directions.

Swallowing her pride, she turned to the nearest person, an older man, dressed in an expensive business suit, who looked as if he might be a doctor or a board chairman. "Excuse me," she said quietly, clearing her throat, "Do you know how to get to the oncology ward from here?"

The man paused and said nothing for several moments as he looked at her critically. She thought perhaps he hadn't understood her question or didn't speak English or was deaf. But then, he replied, "I can take you up there, if you like. I actually have to head that way anyways."

"Thanks," she said with a slight smile as he gestured down the hall and waited for her to start walking before following. She couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes focused intently on her as they walked.

"So, are you here visiting family?" he asked at length.

"You could say that," she shrugged, "She's like family. I was keeping a friend company during her chemo appointment."

"Then what are you doing all the way down here?" he asked curiously.

"I went to get a coffee, but these damn halls are like a maze..." After another moment of silence, she asked, "What about you?"

"Visiting," he said simply, "And meeting with the chief administrator; the hospital needs more money to build a new lab."

She was about to ask a follow-up question when her phone rang. Cheeks flushing, remembering that phones were supposed to be turned off in the hospital, she gave an apologetic smile before answering, "Prentiss."

The man's gaze on her became impossibly more intense and almost quizzical upon hearing that, remaining that way until she ended the call, "Thanks, Jayje. I'll see you tomorrow." Turning back to him, she apologized, "Sorry, that was work."

He gave a small nod as he held open the door to the stairwell. Finally, he spoke again, asking, "What's your name?"

She stopped, a few stairs above him, and turned back to give him a questioning glance. The question had been awkwardly inserted into the conversation with no reciprocating answer. Nonetheless, though, she answered, "Emily."

Having seen her expression, he quickly began back-pedaling, "I'm sorry, it's just... You look so much like my ex-wife and I..." Then, her answer to his question fully permeated his brain. He stopped in his tracks, reaching the same step as her, and extended a hand to gently touch her arm. "Emily? Is that really you?"

Her level of discomfort with the current situation rising, Emily took a few steps back so she was out of his reach.

"Emily," he said softly, holding out his hands in a non-threatening manner, "Em, it's me... It's Dad."

She backed away even more, stopping when her back hit the wall, as if trying to protect herself. "Look," she said, taking a deep breath to attempt to keep her voice even, "I don't know who you are or who you think I am, but my father left years ago. You're not him."

"Emily, please..." he started to say, but she held up her hands in protest.

"I'm sorry, you have me confused with someone else." Then, she continued on up the stairs, attempting to put as much distance between them as possible, not caring that she once again had no idea where she was going.

She burst through the next door onto yet another unfamiliar hall, but continued purposefully onwards, not really caring. The sound of well-polished dress shoes could be heard on the linoleum following after her. "Emily, _please_," he called out, "Just let me explain..."

She stopped, whirling around on her heel, almost causing him to crash into her at the sudden stop. "What's there to explain?" she asked bitterly, "You're _not_ my father." She affixed him with a glare that should have made him glad she wasn't currently armed.

He quickly pulled out his wallet and began fumbling through it with less composure than his pristine appearance said he ought to have. "I know you're mad..." he said slowly, looking her pleadingly in the eyes, "You have every right to be." Finding the object of his search, he handed her a slightly worn photograph. "But believe me, you _are _my daughter..."

Reluctantly taking the picture from him, she felt herself get lost momentarily in the past. A little girl, no more than three or four, lay fast asleep under the Christmas tree, a blanket lovingly draped over her, long pig-tails disappearing among the gifts piled around her. Tearing her eyes away from the photograph, she looked up at the man she barely knew, eyes misted over, and breathed, "Daddy..."

"Emily, honey..."

She broke her gaze away, once again focusing on the picture. Suddenly, a jolt of anger spread through her system as she remembered that the next year he had left without so much as a word of explanation, with barely a goodbye... This was the first time she had seen him in thirty years. This picture immortalized the last real Christmas she had ever had...

When she returned her gaze to him, he could see the fire suddenly burning in her eyes. Pressing the picture forcefully against his chest, she snapped acidly, "I have no _father_!"

And with that, she stalked off down the hall without so much as a backward glance.

******

Morgan hurried to answer the door at the sound of a lackadaisical knock. He had hoped Emily would stop by after helping Garcia get home. It had been his idea that she go with her to the hospital, hoping that she might get a new lease on life, so to speak, seeing people worse off who still managed to maintain their festive spirit.

He received a bit of a shock when, pulling the door open, he found her in tears. That was not what he had been expecting at all... He had thought she would have been cheered up...

He immediately pulled her inside the apartment, crushing her against his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around her. He whispered soothing words as she cried, feeling his heart ache for whatever it was that had reduced her so completely to tears.

Eventually, as her breathing slowed to quiet hiccups, she murmured softly, "I saw my dad..." She sniffled and he was afraid that she might start crying again.

He understood completely. "Shh," he quieted gently, needing no more explanation. Then, without really knowing what he was doing, he pressed a tender kiss to her temple, lingering for several seconds longer than social construct dictated appropriate between platonic friends.

"Come on," he said, disentangling himself from her, and grabbing her hand to pull her into the living room. "I'm sure some bad Christmas movie is on... That and some cookies should take your mind off it."

She gave him a tearful smile and a slight laugh. "Sounds great."


	5. I See the Storm Clouds in Your Eyes

_December 5th - I See the Storm-Clouds in Your Eyes_

No hotel room ever felt like home, ever felt comforting, but this one didn't even seem to be trying. Almost like it had given up on being welcoming. It was just as cold, just as uninviting as the frigid, snow-filled air outside.

Emily sighed heavily, snuggling deeper under the comforter to ward off the surrounding chill. The sounds of 'Holiday in Handcuffs' drifted in one ear and out the other, but that's all it really was: noise. Since she first flipped through the channels and gave up on finding anything worthwhile, her mind had been a million miles away from the little room in which she had imprisoned herself rather than venture somewhere that might require talking to someone... Her mind was far too burdened to be able to pretend to show interest in other people's lives.

Her thoughts drifted back to barely twenty-four hours before when past had collided horribly with the present... As much as she might hate to admit it, that man really was her father; the emphasis being on _was_, because she no longer considered him her parent in any sense other than genetically... At least her mother had never abandoned her. She had found a copy of the photograph he had showed her in an old photo album and had promptly torn it to shreds as she cried, a poor substitute for the object of her anger, but it had made her feel a little better nonetheless. She had wanted to destroy the whole album along with it and all the heart-wrenching memories it contained. But, in the end, she just couldn't bear to, tossing it carelessly aside in an attempt to forget.

Why, after so many years, had he shown up again? What cruel fate thought it wise to bring him back into her life? Why now? Why, when she was trying so hard to finally move on, to be able to be happy and enjoy Christmas again, did he come back into her life?

She flopped back against the pillows, burying her face in her hands, and letting out an aggravated groan. Too many questions without answers... It was looking like she wasn't going to be able to get to sleep any time soon.

Morgan would probably have been annoyed if he knew, after all his efforts to brighten her mood yesterday, she had gone home and made herself seriously depressed again... He kept telling her 'that was no way to spend a perfectly good December day'. And yet, here she was again, trapped under her gloomy little storm cloud...

A knock interrupted her thoughts, causing her to grumble darkly to herself over the interruption.

"Room Service!"

Room service? She hadn't ordered anything... Sighing, she wrapped the comforter around her and reluctantly made her way out of bed to inform whoever was on the other side of the door that he had made a mistake. Swinging the door open, she realized that, in fact, there hadn't been a mistake. "Oh, it's you..." she deadpanned.

"Nice to see you too, Em." Morgan smiled as he followed her into her room and sat on the edge of the bed while she crawled back into the little burrow she had created under the blankets. "'Holiday in Handcuffs', great movie," he commented.

"Why are you here, Morgan?"

"You skipped dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she said resolutely, like a stubborn child.

"You still have to eat," he insisted. Reaching into the paper bag he'd brought with him, he pulled out a sandwich, some Oreo cookies and milk. "It's your favourite: turkey sandwich on whole-wheat with extra cheese."

Begrudgingly, she took the sandwich from him, though not without a good-natured glare. Knowing him, he would probably come up with a thousand reasons why she had to have her dinner and she just didn't want to argue with him. Not to mention, he could very well end up force-feeding her if she refused...and she didn't want to see how that would turn out... As she took the first bite of the sandwich, she realized that she was hungry after all. But she wasn't about to admit that.

Smilingly, Morgan made himself comfortable next to her on the bed, watching the movie, while waiting for Emily to finish her dinner.

Once she had finished her meal, he stood up, pulling on his coat and mittens. "Let's go outside."

Emily stared at him like he was crazy. Even inside it was freezing, why would they possibly want to go outside? "Why?" she asked precisely that.

"It's snowing. And that means we can build a snowman," he answered as if it should have been obvious.

"A snowman?" she scoffed, skeptical, as if he had just expressed an undying belief in unicorns.

"Yeah, you've heard of them... Children build them out of snow, carrot nose, eyes of coal..."

She rolled her eyes at his childish mockery. "I know, genuis. That was my point, though... _Children _build them. Not middle-aged adults."

He turned to give her an incredulous look. "I am _not _middle-aged," he whispered in an affronted tone as if she had just spoken blasphemy.

She laughed and shook her head. "You're right, I'm sorry. But still... I'm _not _building a snowman."

"Why not?" he goaded, "Scared?"

Again, she rolled her eyes. "Morgan, grow up."

He narrowed his eyes, looking at her suspiciously. "You _have _built a snowman before, haven't you?" he asked seriously.

"Of course, I have. What kind of deprived child..."

He cut her off, "You're lying! You've never built a snowman!"

"Fine," she relented, "I never have. What's the point, though? Why waste time building something that's just going to melt a few days later?"

"Oh, that's it," he said firmly, "You're going to build a snowman with me now and there's nothing you can do about it."

With that, he grabbed her hand and tugged her up off the bed, ushering her towards the door.

******

"Morgan, this is stupid."

Emily stood a few feet away, arms crossed, resolutely stubborn, watching as Morgan started work on their snowman. Though, she had no intention of helping.

"Come on, Princess," he called, "I'm not doing this without your help."

"Then you won't be doing it at all because I'm not helping."

"I'm not taking no for an answer..." he maintained.

Ignoring him, she insisted, "I'm going back inside; I'm freezing my ass off out here."

She got several paces away before she heard him mutter, "Not if I can help it..." And a split second later, what had previously been the beginning of a snowman became a projectile and made contact with the back of her head.

Whipping around, she glared at him. "I can't believe you just did that..." He continued to smile impishly as he began preparing another snowball and took aim. "You wouldn't dare..." she hissed.

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

He launched the second snowball in her direction, but she quickly ducked out of the way. Grabbing a handful of snow, she declared, "You're so dead..."

It wasn't long before they were embroiled in a bitter snow battle, all thoughts of snowmen abandoned.

******

Tackling him to the ground, she began packing snow down the back of his jacket, demanding he surrender. "I win, I win!"

But he wasn't about to give in so easily, rolling them both over until he had her pinned beneath him. "You sure about that, Princess?" he breathed in her ear.

She felt her own breath catch at his closeness. Focusing her mind, she frowned, suddenly hit by a realization. "You let me win, didn't you?"

"Maybe." He grinned, rolling off her and lying beside her.

"Why?"

"Feel better?"

She paused for a moment, considering, then smiled softly. "Actually, yes."

"Then it worked," he smiled. "What better way to vent your frustrations than to hit somebody?"

She smiled. "Thank you. And I'm sorry," she said sincerely.

"What for?" he asked, offering his hand to help pull her to her feet.

"For thinking that you were being an ass." Then, a mischievous grin spread across her face, making Morgan suspicious. "And this!" She threw a snowball at him, causing him to lose his balance and fall back into the snow.

"I let you hit me for almost an hour and this is the thanks I get..." He glared at her playfully, but knew it was all worth it when she giggled happily.

"Come on." She helped him up and ushered him back towards the hotel. "I'll buy you coffee."

"Just coffee? I want some cookies too."

"You're so childish..."


	6. If You Can't Take the Heat

_December 6th - If You Can't Take the Heat... Get Out of the Kitchen_

"JJ and Garcia are probably seriously pissed..." Emily broke the silence of the car ride following their cookie felony, "But mostly JJ."

"Yeah," Morgan agreed simply, still grinning over the incident. They might be pissed, but he nonetheless found it a source of great hilarity. "Maybe we should do something to make it up to them..."

"I think our best bet right now would be to seek sanctuary, maybe leave the country, go into hiding..." Emily said seriously, "A year or two should be about right."

Morgan chuckled, "That's a little melodramatic, don't you think? I'm pretty sure we can come up with something that doesn't involve us going on the lam."

Clearly, Emily begged to differ. But she humored him anyway, "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"I think replacing the cookies we ruined should be payment enough... Maybe then they'll spare us our souls," he joked.

She laughed for a moment or two, until she fully absorbed what he was proposing. "You're not seriously suggesting we _bake_? _Us_? By ourselves?"

This time, he broke into full-on laughter at her incredulity. "Hey, give me some credit, I know a thing or two about baking. I did grow up with three women, after all."

"It wasn't _your _skills I was doubting," she grumbled quietly. "Although," she added, "I'm surprised you're willing to admit that, not very...macho..."

"I'm man enough to admit that I make a mean tiramisu and a kick-ass chocolate chip cookie," he smiled.

Sighing dramatically, she relented, "Fine. You're on." Honestly, she was intrigued by the prospect of Morgan in the kitchen, especially baking. Such a domestic thing seemed such a sharp contrast from the door-kicking, unsub-tackling man she knew. The idea thrilled her a little.

******

"Now, I don't have any aprons," he warned, "So don't spil anything."

"No promises," she replied, "In fact, if the rest of the day is anything to go on, you practically have a guarantee to the opposite."

He didn't seem to hear though, currently having disappeared to the depths of the pantry. "We'll keep it simple for now," he called over the clattering of bowls and the rattling of various food-stuffs, "Chocolate chip cookies."

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up at that statement. "Let me guess... Chocolate chip is your favorite?"

"You bet," he nodded vociferously. "My one weakness." _Apart from you..._

Shaking the thought from his head, he slid the recipe book across the counter for her to read. "I had to learn how to bake them for myself when I left home. Not quite as good as Mom used to make... But she refuses to give me her recipe..."

Emily raised a brow at that. From what she knew about his mother, that didn't sound like something she'd do, "Why?"

He chuckled to himself. "I think she thinks that if I can do everything for myself, then I'll have no reason to settle down with a 'nice girl'... She says the recipe will be her wedding gift to me." Allowing himself only mere moments to indulge in those thoughts, he quickly changed the subject. "Now, I know you _say _you're a terrible cook, but I refuse to believe you're _that _bad. In any case, though, we'll take it slow..."

She hadn't noticed when he moved around the little island until he was directly behind her. He leaned in close until his breath tickled her ear as he said breathily, "I promise I'll be gentle..."

Swallowing the lump that had risen to her throat, she turned to face him, her back up against the counter; they were seperated by mere milimeters. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked with more composure than she felt.

He shrugged, taking a step back from her. "I think you know..."

She rolled her eyes. "Now who's being melodramatic? And to think, we _almost _had a moment back there..."

"Enough chatter," he silenced her, wanting to cover the sudden awkward vulnerability, realizing she had felt it too, "Those apology cookies aren't going to bake themselves."

******

"I don't know what JJ was talking about," Morgan said, shaking his head as he looked at the excellent batch of cookies they had managed to produce, "I think you did just fine."

Emily smiled unconsciously at his praise. "I think there's a bit of a learning curve," she explained, "And you're a much better teacher."

"You're selling yourself short," he insisted.

She shook her head vehemently, "If I were attempting to bake on my own, the fire department would be here in droves."

A smile flitted across his face. "Been there..."

That prompted a raised eyebrow on her part. "Oh, really? Do tell..."

"That's a story my sisters love telling, maybe I should save it for when you meet them...again."

Ignoring the implications of that statement, she pouted and gave a lamenting whimper. "I want to hear it now... You can't tell me that much and just leave me hanging..."

Never one to deny her, he gave in. "One year, I wanted to surprise my mom by baking her a birthday cake... This was back before I was the culinary genius you see before you. Things were going pretty well, at least, until the oven came into play. I forgot to set the timer and obviously forgot about the cake in the oven, only remembering when my mom started panicking, ushering us out of the house as large amounts of thick grey smoke billowed out of the kitchen... Of course, the fire department showed up and I had to explain the whole embarrassing situation to them. I could tell they were trying not to laugh the whole time; my teenaged ego was a little bruised. After that, my mom promptly started giving me cooking lessons." He was silent for a moment, reflecting. "The fire department still sends us a card every year," he added.

Emily was trying very hard to hold back her laughter, not wanting to bruise his ego any further, but that was easier said than done. He shot her a mirthful glance and said, "It's okay to laugh... Just so long as this stays between us."

"Deal."

Slowly, another silence settled over them. At length, Emily broke it saying softly, sadly, "Today was the first time I've ever actually done any baking..."

For a moment, he was about to make an exclamation of surprise, until he remembered her history. Her mother had obviously never taken the mother-daughter bonding opportunity that learning to cook presents. Perhaps, she didn't even know how to bake herself. And, considering that Emily had never thereafter felt Christmas a thing to celebrate, she had never had any motivation to learn. "Well," he said with a genuine smile, "I think you did very well for your first time."

"Really?" she asked, slightly bashfully.

"Really. You're a master chef in the making." He pulled her into a hug, smiling. "Now, Julia Child, why don't I drive you home; who knows what Garcia has in store for us tomorrow..."


	7. Playing Florence Nightengale

_December 7th - Playing Florence Nightengale_

Morgan sniffled, groaning, as he flopped back on the couch; as much as he hated to admit it, he had come down with a cold. He figured it was probably due to the snowball fights over the last few days; that had pretty much been asking to be stuck down with a life-threatening flu.

Remembering his mother's advice to get lots of rest whenever he was sick so he could recover quickly, he wrapped the blanket tighter around his body and attempted to take a nap, but his mind wouldn't let him rest.

He smiled to himself at the memory of Emily grinning as she found out what him and Garcia were up to in the snow earlier. It seemed that he was finally getting through to her.

Not only had she shirked work to play in the snow, but she had done so with no coercion whatsoever, completely of her own freewill.

And he found himself completely drawn to that side of her. Happy, playful, carefree. The smile lighting her face had sent a surge of warmth through his system, knowing he was at least partially responsible for this scarcely seen laid-back side of her. Not to mention that with that brilliant smile gracing her features, her astounding beauty was infinitely multiplied.

As he had stood back, watching as she made Reid shriek in terror while she giggled brightly, he found his thoughts drifting away to some imagined point in the future. A point where he watched as Emily tussled in the snow with their children. It was a future he liked, one he wanted more than anything to have.

Just then, he was pulled from his happy thoughts by a knock on the door. He couldn't imagine why anyone would be at his door at the current hour and he began grumbling moodily to himself as he went to answer the door, thinking it must be a mistake.

Instead, he found that it was no mistake and the person standing on the other side of the door was the one he wanted to see the most.

"I made you soup," Emily smiled as he let her in.

"Soup?" he said, confused.

She laughed, joking, "I see the sickness has already spread to your brain... Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Well, I was, but then _someone _started pounding on my door like the Gestapo wanting me to eat soup..."

"Fine, if that's how you feel... I was going to take care of you, but I guess I'll just go..." she taunted.

He sighed dramatically, "If you really want to take care of me, I _suppose _that would be alright."

"How noble of you." She spun him around and, hands on his shoulders, guided him towards what she guessed to be his bedroom. "You need to rest."

Before he was totally aware of what was going on, she had bundled him up in blankets and tucked him into bed, shut the blinds, and turned out the lights. A few minutes later, she came back and immediately began playing Florence Nightengale. Pressing the back of her hand against his forehead, she murmured, "You're a little warm, probably have a bit of a fever."

Evidently, she had raided his medicine cabinet because she handed him a glass of water and a cocktail of what he assumed to be various pain killers, cold medication, and decongestants. He had to admit, he found it endearing the way she had made herself right at home.

Then, she demanded that he eat some of the soup she'd brought, pressing the warm bowl into his hands. "Chicken noodle. I made it from scratch," she said, "One of the few things I can actually cook. And, if I do say so myself, it's pretty great."

"We'll just see about that," he said, blowing softly on a spoonful of the liquid. Then, spoon half-way to his mouth, he frowned, "Isn't the saying 'feed a cold, starve a fever'?"

"It's not like you're burning up," she scoffed, "Besides, the reason they say that is because your digestive enzymes start to denature above a certain temperature; I think you can handle soup. Chicken noodle even helps you get better."

"Does not, that's an old wives' tale," he argued.

"Actually, a study was done that proved..."

He cut her off, "You've been spending way too much time around Reid."

She laughed, "Would you please just eat your soup?"

Finally, though not without a dramatic sigh, he took a bite. Begrudgingly, he admitted, "It is _pretty _good..."

She smiled smugly, "I knew it."

Waiting until he'd finished eating, she ordered, "You should try to get some sleep. I'll be sleeping on your couch if you need anything."

He had to admit, he was touched that she was so devoted to taking care of him. It was a welcome glimpse into the kind of life they could have together, one that wasn't seeming so far out of reach lately.

Smiling impishly, he said, "I need you..."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"But what if I stop breathing in my sleep?" he implored, "I need you here with me for safety reasons." She raised an eyebrow and was about to protest when he reasoned, "You're gonna be sleeping here anyway, you may as well do it in a warm, comfortable bed. There's plenty of room and I'm too tired to take advantage of you... Although, I'm not sure I can trust you to do the same..." He used his best puppy-dog look, "I'll be lonely..."

She sighed, "Fine. But if I catch your cold, I'll never forgive you."

"Deal." He smiled brightly; he'd long dreamed of holding her in his arms while they slept and this was as close as he was about to get. He pulled back the corner of the covers so that she could slip in next to him.

"Sweet dreams," she murmured softly as he started to drift off, her own voice sounding cloudy with sleep.

He sighed happily, already knowing they would be.


	8. Sleeping In

_December 8th - Sleeping In_

With a sharp gasp, Morgan awoke from a vivid fever dream drenched in a cold sweat. It took a minute or two for him to realize where he was and what was happening.

But once he'd regain his wits, he spent the next several moments just gazing at Emily who still lay sleeping. She looked completely at peace, her hair forming a dark halo on the pillow. He would have been more than content to just lay there looking at her, but her voice startled him from his thoughts. Without opening her eyes, she asked, "Feeling better this morning?"

"A little," he admitted, his voice raspy and hoarse, "But I think I could use my lovely nurse for another day..." It wasn't an outright request, more of an invitation, so she wouldn't feel guilty refusing if she had plans; he wanted to see what she would do when given the choice...

Opening one eye, she gave him a cursory glance before quietly saying, "I'll stay, on one condition..." He made a questioning noise, telling her to go on. "Go back to sleep and let me rest a little longer."

He chuckled, "Sounds fair. Go back to sleep, Princess."

******

The second time he awoke, the other half of the bed was empty and he instantly missed her warmth and gentle scent of vanilla.

Realizing she wouldn't have gone too far, having promised to stay, he decided to risk her annoyance and go looking for her. Slowly crawling out of bed, wrapping the comforter around his shoulders, he hobbled into the kitchen where Emily was hunched over the stove, busy preparing some sort of meal.

He began to wonder if she was psychic when, without even turning around, she gently scolded, "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Got lonely," he shrugged. Perching himself at the breakfast bar, he added, "What are you cooking?"

"I wasn't sure how your stomach was feeling, but I figured you'd be okay with oatmeal...with apples and cinnamon," she explained.

"Sounds good," he smiled. "I hope you know how much I appreciate you taking care of me; you really didn't have to do all this."

"I know; I wanted to," she said honestly, "It's not like I had anything better to do."

"Still though, I'd like to make it up to you," he insisted.

"You really don't have to do that," she argued, "I was happy to help. What are friends for?"

It was a little disconcerting how one little word packed such a punch... He had been hoping maybe they were starting to move beyond purely platonic. Nonetheless though, he persisted, "You can argue 'til the cows come home, but I'm gonna make it up to you whether you think I need to or not."

She smiled, "If you insist. But not today, you need to rest."

"I'm not sleeping all day," he insisted. "What about relaxing on the couch to the tune of some cheesy Christmas movies?"

He almost missed the smile that quickly flitted across her face before she caught herself. "I guess that's alright...since you're sick."

"Don't lie, you know you want to..."

******

The third time he woke up that day, he didn't even remember falling asleep. And he wasn't even entirely convinced he was awake now, seeing as Emily was asleep in his arms.

In the background, he recognized the sound of 'The Santa Clause' on the TV. He vaguely remembered watching the beginning of 'Rudolph and the Island of Misfit Toys' and must have fallen asleep sometime after that.

Apparently, after he'd fallen asleep, Emily had dozed off as well. Though, how he'd wound up holding her tightly in his arms as if they'd been sleeping like that for years, he wasn't entirely sure.

But he liked it. And he could definitely get used to it.

A part of him hoped that maybe she had moved there before falling asleep, of her own freewill.

But he wasn't about to complain either way; this was a dream come true.

He settled against her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I love you, Em," he whispered, feeling his secret was safe since she was sleeping.

Listening to her slow, deep breathing, he felt himself starting to drift off again, but fought the urge to sleep, focusing instead on the movie because this was the first time he'd been able to hold her while he was awake and he was determined to enjoy it for as long as possible.

But, the fantasy didn't last long because, not long after, Emily began to stir. Trying not to seem too disappointed, he said, "Morning, Princess. Have a good nap?"

"I fell asleep?" she groaned, "I'm sorry."

He smiled, "I don't mind."

She reached out to press her hand against his forehead again. "Your fever's gone down..."

"You're a _very _good nurse."

There was a moment of comfortable silence before she quietly asked, "What are we watching now?"

"'The Santa Clause'," he replied distantly as her gaze shifted from him to the TV.

The only thing he was paying attention to though, was the way she settled comfortably back against him, sighing contentedly, making no move whatsoever to escape his embrace.

Maybe there was hope afterall...


	9. Searching

_December 9th - Searching_

Morgan called Emily that evening with the intent of offering her a ride to the party.

She must've been in the process of getting ready because her voice kept drifting in and out of range of her phone on speaker. Not to mention that every few sentences were punctuated by a rant about how much she hated going to these parties.

Strictly speaking, they weren't _obligated _to go, but it was more of an unwritten social construct that necessitated their attendance.

"So, do you want a ride or not?" he eventually got the conversation back on track.

She ignored his question completely. "If I had to guess, I'd say this'll be more fun than one of Mother's parties, but less fun than a kick in the teeth."

He laughed, "What do you have against these parties anyway? You're not being a grinch again, are you?"

He could practically hear her roll her eyes. "No, I just don't exactly enjoy being bored out of my mind for four hours surrounded by people I don't like, with only watered-down liquor to ease the mind-numbing boredom. And we don't even get the liquor this year..."

"Oh, it's not _that _bad."

"It isn't?" she challenged. "Don't even get me started on how irritating it is getting hit on by obnoxious drunk men who seem to have lost all moral character..."

"Tell you what," he offered, "I'll be your date for the evening; that way no one hits on you and I guarantee you'll have fun."

She was silent for several moments. "Morgan, I don't..."

He quickly backpedaled, "Just as friends."

She sighed, "I guess that would..." She cut herself off with a sharp yelp of, "Ow!"

He tried not to laugh. "What did you do?"

"Stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara brush..."

He chuckled, "I think drinking _before _you get to the party still counts..." He could practically feel her chagrin radiating over the phone. "So, you'll let me be your date?"

"Yes," she sighed dramatically.

"I'll pick you up in an hour."

******

As he waited for her to answer the door, he tried not to think about what tonight did or didn't mean. She had agreed to go with him...but only as friends...

But that was rife with possibilities and implications. He certainly knew what he wanted this to lead to, but he had no idea what, if anything, Emily wanted...

But he didn't want to push her, especially not tonight; he just wanted things to happen if and when they were meant to.

So, he was trying to push all those thoughts from his mind.

But, as the door swung open and he caught his first look at her outfit for the evening, he had a feeling that his good intentions were going to be very difficult to keep.

Swallowing thickly, he attempted to reign himself in. He smiled broadly when, after several moments in which he said nothing, merely gazed at her, a pink tinge crept up her cheeks.

When he trusted himself to speak again, he said teasingly, "Ready for our date?"

She rolled her eyes. "I give you an inch, you walk all over me..."

"You won't regret it," he chuckled, helping her into her jacket.

"Who says I don't already?"

His hands on her arms, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Don't tell me you aren't just a little intrigued..."

Her breath caught in her throat and she pulled out of his grasp a little. "Let's go."

******

"You know," he commented, sidling up to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, causing her to jump in surprise, "You make it really difficult for me to fight off the guys supposedly hitting on you when you undo your top buttons and start kissing people under the mistletoe..."

"You're only saying that because I'm winning," she smirked.

"Yeah, because I'm losing time trying to uphold my promise to protect your sanctity from miscreant co-workers."

She gave a snort of laughter. "Sounds like someone's jealous..." she mocked in a sing-song voice.

"Of the fact that you're winning or that you're kissing other guys?"

She shrugged, "Take your pick."

"Maybe I am..."

"Because I'm winning or because I'm kissing other guys?" she echoed.

He answered by grabbing her wrist and tugging her towards the doorway adorned by a sprig of mistletoe.

"Morgan, what are you doing?" she asked sharply as he started to lean in towards her.

They were so close she could feel his breath on her lips and she could feel her heart pounding in her head when he whispered, "Winning."

Then, he pushed her through the doorway and slammed the doors shut, cackling evilly.


	10. Elephant in the Room

_December 10th - Elephant in the Room_

"I need help..."

It was early afternoon when Morgan got a rather frantic phone call from Emily.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, ready to move heaven and Earth to help her.

"I need a favour..." she sighed, sounding weary.

"Anything."

"My dad's been calling again... I just wanted it to stop, so I agreed to meet him as long as he didn't try to contact me again. I just... I can't do it alone. Do you..." she faltered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I was just wondering if...maybe you could come with me?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but she must've thought he was about to refuse because she quickly added, "I just need someone to support me. I don't know him at all and I just really need a friendly face there to..."

He interrupted, "Of course I'll help, I'll do anything you need."

She gave a heavy sigh, obviously relieved. "I'm meeting him for coffee; I wanted to be able to walk away if I felt like there was too much pressure... Is it a bad sign that I'm expecting this to go badly?"

He gave a small, humorless laugh at the feeble attempt at light-heartedness. "I'll be there."

******

"Are you sure you're okay?" Morgan asked gently, reaching out to hold her hand protectively as they waited for her father to show up.

"Yes... No... Maybe..." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know."

"Everything's gonna be alright," he soothed.

"I almost hope he doesn't show up," she deadpanned, "Then I won't feel like such a terrible person for hating him..."

"Don't do that to yourself," he insisted, "He abandoned you when you were just a little girl; I'd say you're completely justified for any anger you have towards him. You don't need to rationalize that to anyone."

She gave him a half-hearted smile and gently squeezed his hand back. "Thanks for coming with me, I don't think I could have even gotten through the door without you."

He smiled to let her know that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. He was about to say something more when the door to the little cafe opened and he instantly knew it was her father without ever having laid eyes on the man before. "Are you ready?" he asked softly.

She instantly tensed up when she saw him walking towards them. "Oh, God," she breathed, "I can't do this!"

"Yes, you can. I know it, you just don't know it yet."

******

Introductions were awkward. Small talk even more so. Finally, Emily got tired of talking in circles, skirting the elephant in the room. "Why did you ask to meet me?" It didn't go unnoticed by anyone that she failed to address him as dad or any such moniker.

"Emily, I know I hurt you when I left..." he started.

She cut him off, scoffing, "You think?"

He continued on unfazed, "But I want to make it up to you, I want to be a part of your life again."

"Why now?" she asked, reaching out for Morgan's hand again. "Why, after all these years, did it suddenly occur to you that you wanted to be a dad again?"

"I've always been your dad..."

"No," she snapped, "You stopped being my dad the day you walked out of my life without so much as a goodbye!"

"It's never too late to start over," he pleaded, "I know I've made mistakes in the past, but I want to start fixing them and I would really like for you to give me a chance."

"A chance?" she repeated incredulously, "You want me to give you a _chance_!? Why the hell should I do that? I cried myself to sleep _every night _for a month when you left! That was the year I stopped believing in Christmas; I was _five_! I was too young to have to grow up, but I knew that I couldn't depend on anyone..."

"Emily, I'm really sorry for all those things, but I'll do anything to make it up to you."

"You shouldn't _have _to make it up to me! Parents aren't supposed to have to beg their children for forgiveness!"

He started to interrupt, "Emily..."

"No!" she yelped, somewhere between anger and begging, fighting to hold back her sobs, "You listen to me! The only person that was ever there for me was Mother...and I spent my whole life trying to get her attention by acting out, any way I could, because she never had time for me. And she was the _good _parent! Do you know how sad that is? No offense, but I didn't have a dad my entire life, I don't need one now."

Morgan felt his heart breaking at the pain she'd had to live with for so long, but he didn't see this situation as hopeless. Gently tugging her towards him, he whispered, "Em, honey..." He paused momentarily at the slip of his tongue, but pressed on nonetheless, "I know that you're in a lot of pain and I can't tell you the right way to deal with it, but I do know what it's like to grow up without a father... And I would give anything to have the chance you have now, to have my dad back in my life... I know it's not the same, but I think maybe you should give him a second chance. Christmas is a time of forgiveness..."

Her searching, tear-filled eyes look deeply into his. "Derek, I don't know..." she whispered.

"I'll support you no matter what you choose," he promised, "But would it really hurt to try?"

The promise of his continued support seemed to make up her mind. She squeezed his hand in a silent thanks and a plea for further help. "Alright, I'll give you a chance..."


	11. Ribbons and Bows

_December 11th - Ribbons and Bows_

"Seriously? An _elf_?" Morgan laughed, "Oh, man, I would give _anything _to have been there! Please tell me someone had the foresight to take pictures."

"I hope not," she grumbled darkly, shuddering. "You're taking way too much pleasure in my misfortune."

"It's not 'misfortune' if you signed up for it..."

"No one said anything about elves," she said under her breath.

"But you had fun, right?" he pressed, "All costumes, carolling, and public humiliation aside?"

There was a reluctant pause before she sighed, "Fine! I enjoyed it... Are you happy now?"

"Very." He gently ran a thumb over her cheek, smudging the sparkles there. "The whole elf thing explains the body glitter, then?"

She cursed softly under her breath. "I thought I got it all..." She furiously scrubbed a hand over her face, trying to remove the last sparkly vestiges. "It was Garcia's idea, she said it 'completed the illusion'... Whatever that means."

He chuckled, "Of course it was."

They sat in her living room, wrapping gifts. It was probably a good thing she wouldn't have to drive home later because she appeared to be drowning her day of embarrassment in a carton of egg nog and rum that had stopped being egg nog a half hour since.

"So, what are you going to do about your father?" he asked eventually.

She frowned, apparently not enjoying this change in conversation. "Honestly, I don't even want to think about him right now... I've got to go to one of my mother's functions tomorrow and I can only handle one nightmare parent at a time..."

"Fun..." he quipped.

"Yeah..." she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "But at least she's making an effort lately."

He smiled. "I'm glad." There was silence for a minute in which he resolutely made up his mind about what he was about to do. "Speaking of parents... Since you probably don't have a lot of plans, would you like to go down to Chicago for Christmas with me?" She looked surprised, if not a little shocked. "That way you get a _real _Christmas; if that doesn't make you believe again, nothing will..."

"Won't I be intruding?" Your family doesn't get to see you very much, I'm sure they won't want some stranger taking up their time with you..."

"For one thing, you're not a stranger. And for another, my mom will probably be so happy to see me with a human female, she'll..." He paused, "Well, I'm not exactly sure what she'd do...and I'm not sure whether to be excited or scared..."

She chuckled. "Well, I guess I could come with you...since I've got nothing better to do..."

"I can't wait."

******

Coming back into the room after what seemed like only a minute's absence, Morgan found Emily fast asleep. He stood back, smiling, for a moment; to be fair, he was impressed that she had lasted this long... Even sick, Garcia was easily the energizer bunny and Emily, who was considerably more laid-back, had just spent all day keeping up with her; it was no surprise that she was exhausted.

Very gently, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom. Lying her down on the bed, taking great care not to wake her, he pulled the blankets around her, then once again stopped to gaze at her. Softly, he brushed her hair away from her face, marvelling at how beautiful she looked, almost angelic.

He kissed her forehead and whispered, "I love you, girl," before backing out of the room and quietly closing the door behind him.

It felt good to be able to admit his feelings for her, but at the same time, it was hard knowing that she still had no idea because he was still too scared to tell her the truth while she was awake...

Returning to the living room where they had been working, he realized that they hadn't even gotten through half of the gifts they had to wrap. Not surprising, since they had spent more time joking around than actually working.

Grabbing a cup of coffee, he went right back to work, hoping to finish before Emily awoke.

******

Emily awoke at nearly ten o'clock that night, yawning and stretching, before becoming very confused upon realizing that she hadn't fallen asleep in her bed and yet, that's where she was right now...

Scrambling out of bed, she tried to remember what had happened those few short hours previously, nearly falling on her face when she got tangled in the sheets. Well, at least she was still dressed...that was a good sign.

She scrubbed her hands groggily over her face, pulling them away covered in glitter. Then, she remembered...Morgan...

Taking the stairs two at a time, she sprinted back into the living room only to find it deserted. He was gone... She felt a small twinge of disappointment, having hoped that he would be there when she awoke...

Then, she realized that something else was different than when she had fallen asleep: all her gifts had been wrapped. And they most definitely hadn't been a few hours previously.

She felt her eyes pricking with tears of gratitude as she realized what Morgan had done. He was so good to her, she'd never had anyone who cared so much, who was so devoted... She was so lucky and he probably had no idea how grateful she was to have him...


	12. All I Want For Christmas Is You

_December 12th - All I Want for Christmas is You_

"Just a minute..." Morgan called through the door after Garcia knocked.

"I told you to be ready at _exactly _ten! It's now quarter after and we're..." she scolded, a little annoyed. She had agreed to give him a hand with his Christmas shopping since, if history was anything to go by, he clearly sucked at it; probably since he was one of those people who inevitably left it to the last minute.

"In a minute," he repeated, interrupting her rant.

She sighed aggravatedly, wondering what could possibly be so important that he couldn't even open the door. But there was really nothing she could do but wait, so she settled to the ground by the door to fix her sock which had been pulled down by her winter boot.

But, as her ear neared the door, she heard Morgan talking to someone, presumably on the phone since she heard no voice in response. And, since she had nothing better to do, she decided to eavesdrop a little.

"Are you sure you're okay, Em?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. While it wasn't unusual for the team to call each other, even on subjects unrelated to cases, this didn't seem like just a regular, platonic conversation between colleagues or even friends...

She leaned in closer to press her ear closer against the door.

"No, honey, it's not silly. And you don't have to do anything you don't want..."

_Honey!? What was Morgan doing addressing Emily as honey?_

"If you don't want to go to your mother's Christmas party, then just don't go. You're a grown-up, she doesn't control your life."

_They all knew that Emily hated going to any of her mother's functions, but she never asked anyone else for advice..._

He chuckled. "Okay, well, maybe a little, but..."

_Morgan seemed to know an awful lot about Emily's mother..._

"Okay, so go. But she can't make you like it."

_This whole conversation was starting to seem very suspect..._

"And then after, you can come back here and I can..."

_Whoa, whoa, whoa!_

Upon hearing that, she nearly choked on the sip of tea she had just taken. Instantly, she clapped a hand to her mouth as she fought to hold back a cough. She quickly scrambled to her feet to pretend as if she hadn't been listening in on what was obviously supposed to be a private conversation.

He stopped speaking suddenly upon hearing a coughing and spluttering coming from outside the door. And a split second later, the door flung open and Morgan stood on the other side with a raised eyebrow, looking as if he had just caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone before quickly hanging up. Then, attempting to pretend as if nothing had just happened, he turned back to Garcia, "Sorry I took so long. Let's head out."

But she was not about to let that fly. "Hold on just a minute there, mister. Who were you just talking to?" Obviously, she knew exactly who had been on the other end of that call, but she liked to pretend she wasn't nosy.

"No one."

She narrowed her eyes to glare at him. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"I'm sick and you're not going to be honest with me? This might be your only chance..."

It was his turn to glare at her. "You really have to stop playing the cancer card..." She just continued to look at him expectantly. He sighed aggravatedly and threw his hands in the air. "Fine!"

"And don't leave anything out. We both know I was eavesdropping and I don't have any compunction against spreading rumors..."

******

Smiling to herself, Garcia couldn't help but feel that she had been given a blank check for mayhem for her Christmas gift this year. Merry Christmas indeed, at least for her. She had a feeling Morgan and Emily might not view it so cheerily once they found out what she had done...

One of the thing she liked to think she was best at was playing matchmaker...and pulling pranks. So, when she was given a chance to do both, she decided she may as well take the opportunity while she still could. A gift to herself, so to speak.

And to her two best friends, who would benefit in the end.

Dialling Emily's number, she put her devious plan into action. Waiting until a very sleepy and slightly annoyed Emily answered the phone, she played a message she had pieced together using sound-editing technology, from an earlier conversation with Morgan she had recorded.

"_Hey, Em, I'm really sorry to call so late... But I took a bad fall and I think my arm is broken... You know I wouldn't call if it wasn't bad. I don't think I can get to the hospital on my own..."_

Instantly, Emily sounded much more awake, "I'll be right there. Just hang in there and don't do anything stupid." As she spoke, there was a series of bumps and crashes, as if she were attempting to get dressed hurriedly and in the dark.

******

Morgan awoke to the sound of insistent knocking on his door and he groaned, rolling over to see the alarm clock flashing 1:12 AM. He was about to roll over and ignore it, sure that whatever it was, it could wait until morning...or if it couldn't, then the person knocking would break down the door. Either way, it didn't require him getting out of bed.

At least, that was his plan until he heard the person knocking call to him. "Morgan? It's Emily! Let me in!"

That had him awake and out of bed. He couldn't imagine any reason why Emily would be pounding on his door at this ungodly hour, so whatever it was, he knew it had to be bad. Flinging open the door, he was a little taken-aback by her rather dishevelled appearance, pyjama pants tucked into Ugg boots and a care-worn Yale hoody, apparently she had been in such a hurry to get here that she had even forgotten her winter jacket. If possible, he was even more confused as to her presence after considering her attire in the equation; even when they had mere minutes' notice about being needed on a case, she never appeared anything other than perfectly polished as if she'd had hours to get ready. That must mean she had _really _been in a hurry to get here... "Emily, what are you doing here?" he asked upon getting over his surprise. He couldn't help but get a little lost in how beautiful she looked; if anything, her laid-back appearance made her even more breath-taking.

At his question, she frowned and seemed confused. "What are you talking about? You called me..."

"What?"

"You said you broke your arm and needed help getting to the hospital..."

"I think I would remember that..." he shrugged. He switched to a more pressing line of questioning, at least, in his mind. "You came all the way out here in the middle of the night because you thought I was hurt?" She nodded. "But you hate winter driving...and driving at night...and you don't wake up for anything short of an atomic bomb..."

A pale pink tinge crept up her cheeks and she said quietly, "I thought you needed me..." For a fraction of a second, there was a laden silence and she immediately filled it. "So, if you didn't..." she started musing. Then, realization dawned on her face. "Garcia..."

But he didn't really catch her words, being too deeply absorbed in his thoughts. If she had been willing to do that for him, then he must really mean something to her. God knew, by now, he was so far gone that she was practically his whole world. And this was at least a glimmer of hope that his feelings were reciprocated.

Considering everything that had happened thus far, it had become glaringly apparent just how short life was and just how much they all took for granted... Like the assumption that there would _be _a next year...

Her voice startled him from his thoughtful reverie. "But why would she do that...?"

In a fraction of a second, he had come to the decision to go for broke, to take a chance, to tell her how he felt... At least then, even if she didn't feel the same, he would know for sure. He wouldn't have to spend another year wondering.

"She caught me talking to you on the phone and you know how she is... She wouldn't let up until she had the whole story..."

Emily raised a brow. "And what would the 'whole story' be?"

He took a deep breath and said, "That since I made it my mission to make you love Christmas again, I've come to realize that I'm a very stupid man... Because you've been right in front of me this whole time and I couldn't see how perfect you are, I couldn't see that my feelings for you made me blind to any other woman. That the only thing I really want for Christmas this year is to be able to call you mine..."

For what felt like the longest moments in the history of time, she just stood there, a little stunned. Then, breathlessly, as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs, she said, "Wow..." Then, she seemed to shake herself out of her trance. "I... I think that can be arranged..."

He pulled her into a hug, a warm feeling of happiness growing in his chest. He mentally reminded himself to thank Garcia.

Pulling away, Emily said quietly, "Seeing as your arm clearly isn't broken, I should be getting home... You'd better hope we don't get called in tomorrow because I'm really gonna need to sleep in."

"I'll bring you coffee if we do," he said smiling. And, as she was half-way out the door, he called out to her, "Emily, wait..."

She turned back and a second later, his lips came crashing down on hers in a kiss that made her knees go weak.

A/N: I know, I know... I'm such a n00b. But I have seriously had a lot of issues with this story (and life in general) lately, so I couldn't not use a chapter that was more or less pre-written...


	13. Being Good Enough

_December 13th - Being Good Enough_

Morgan stood at Emily's door, shifting from foot to foot nervously. He'd never really been nervous about dates before, but he had a bad case of butterflies tonight...

Tonight was his first date with Emily and he was determined that it go perfectly. This date mattered in a way that no other ever had and he'd been waiting for this day for a long time. Now that it was here, he could hardly believe that it was actually happening; he couldn't believe that he was lucky enough to not only have her in his life, but to have the chance to make it permanent. He already knew he wanted forever, he just had to prove it to her.

He smiled brilliantly when she answered the door, feeling his heart fluttering as if he were a school boy talking to his first crush. She smiled back, looking a little nervous as well; he found it completely adorable and suddenly didn't feel so anxious.

Before she could even say hello, he pulled her to him and kissed her passionately. When he pulled back, she looked stunned, standing there speechless. He smiled, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

She smiled shyly. "Was it worth the wait?" she asked quietly.

"Absolutely."

******

"I would have cooked dinner for you, but I was afraid I'd mess it up and ruin the whole date," Morgan confessed, "I wanted everything to be perfect."

"Believe me, you couldn't possibly ruin it; this is already perfect."

They were seated in a secluded corner of a little restaurant that he'd never been to, but knew that she liked. Going out to dinner seemed a little cliche for a first date, but it was a chance to be alone, together, and he knew it would be pretty hard to screw up; besides, they'd known each other for so long that it wasn't really like a first date. And he liked the close quarters, the chance to hold her hand, to tell her he loved her, to kiss her, and not worry about who might see and what they would think.

"Although," she added, "I might inadvertently ruin it... I already told you that I'm kind of a nerd on dates and usually end up freaking out the guys and I'm even more nervous than usual tonight..."

"Believe me," he echoed, "You aren't going to ruin the night by being a 'nerd'. I'm not the kind of guy that's gonna be scared off because you're smart and powerful and because you read Vonnegut...those things just make me love you more." He gently pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

A pink tinge crept up her cheeks a little. "You don't have to say all those things, you know; I already agreed to go out with you..."

"I don't say them because I have to, I say them because I want to, because they're true; you know that, right?"

Her eyes started to water and she bit at her lip coyly. "You're gonna make me cry..." she half-sobbed, half-laughed. He smiled, finding it so endearing how awkward she felt when he lavished her with compliments.

******

Morgan stood outside Emily's apartment for the second time that night, but the bad case of butterflies was definitely gone; instead, it was replaced by a warmth that had him smiling like an idiot. His heart warmed as she leaned her head on his shoulder, this was the kind of closeness he had been craving for so long.

"I think this might just be the best date I've ever been on," he murmured softly as they stopped in front of her door.

She giggled softly, "That's a little sad...it was just dinner."

"Well, I enjoyed the company..." He smiled as she leaned up to kiss him softly.

It was a little strange how natural this felt, how easily they had transitioned from friends to something more; although, it wasn't altogether surprising, considering they had always been very close.

"You aren't so bad yourself." She leaned in a little closer and he hugged her tighter to him.

Then, Morgan shifted slightly, kissing her softly. "It's late. I should go." Although he was reluctant to let the night end, he'd spend every second with her if he could, he didn't want to force her. He wanted to take things slowly. After all, he had forever with her.

"You can stay..." Emily said shyly, her arms locked tightly around him.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to..."

She cut him off when she pressed her lips against his, kissing him passionately, but pulled away when they heard someone clearing their throat. The couple turned around, only to find Emily's father standing a few feet down the hallway.

"Dad?" Emily said, stunned, after a torturous silence, "What are you doing here?"

"You weren't returning my calls..." he said eventually, attempting to recover from the shock of what he had just seen and heard. "I thought we agreed to try and work on things..."

Emily frowned, obviously displeased that their lovely evening had been reduced to this. "We did..." she said slowly, keeping her tone carefully measured, trying to keep the potentially volatile situation from taking a turn for the worse. But that didn't last for long, her anger slowly seeping into her voice, "But it's not that simple... You can't just come back into my life like you never left and just expect everything to suddenly go back to normal! Being a father is something you have to _earn_! You're going to have to give me some time to accept you again; I'm still mad..."

"What more do I have to do to prove to you that I've changed?" he asked, a note of sadness on his voice, "I can only do so much with words, sooner or later you're going to have to trust me enough to let me start making it up to you. You'll have to meet me half-way..."

"_Half-way_?" she repeated incredulously, "You're asking me to open myself up to possibly having my heart broken again... Do you know how hard it is to lose a parent, knowing it was because they didn't want you? It sucks! And I'm gonna need some time to prepare myself for that eventuality..."

"Do you really think so little of me? That I would come back into your life, trying to fix things, only to let you down again?"

"Why shouldn't I think that?" she snapped, "Give me one good reason... Because your track record doesn't exactly speak for itself..." Morgan tightened his grip on her hand slightly, silently speaking to her. She shut her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "I think you should go now, _Dad_," she said flatly, the purposeful emphasis saying more than the words themselves, "I'll call you when I'm ready."

He looked as if he were about to argue the matter, but the glare that Morgan sent him was enough to stop him in his tracks. Although, he returned the glare to the man who seemed to be replacing him as the most important man in his daughter's life. Before he left, he plead, "Please, Emily, I really want to fix things..."

She said nothing, turning on her heel and slamming the door. She leaned back against it, tears springing to her eyes.

Morgan gently pulled her to him, whispering softly, "You can count on me always being there for you... I know enough to know that you're the best thing that will ever happen to me and I'd never be dumb enough to give that up."

Slightly muffled by his chest, she gave a slight, humorless laugh, "I'll bet you never imagined our first date ending like this..." Sighing, she added, "You're too good to me."

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm just trying to be good _enough _for you.


	14. Schemes and Dreams

_December 14th - Schemes and Dreams_

Morgan sighed dramatically as Emily pulled back from the kiss and leaned out of his embrace.

"What?" she giggled, "You'd prefer I just ignore the person knocking on the door? What if it's an emergency, what if the building is on fire?"

"Ignore them," he said seriously.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Keep dreaming." But she softened the blow with a quick peck.

Morgan smiled as he watched her cross the apartment to answer the door, still amazed that this was really happening, that he wasn't dreaming. Though he'd certainly dreamed about it, he never really thought there'd be a day when he spent the night with Emily Prentiss. And yet, here they were...

His thoughts were interrupted by Emily's voice, "What are you doing here?"

"Who is it?" he called towards the front hall.

Evidently, that was the wrong thing to have done because Emily groaned and there was an excited squeal as could only be made by one person.

And sure enough, a few seconds later, Garcia and JJ came into the front room, followed shortly by Emily who looked somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed.

"What are you ladies doing here?" he asked, trying to act happy to see them, but not quite succeeding; it was hard to hide his disappointment at the fact that all his plans for an afternoon alone with Emily had just been washed down the drain.

"I could ask you the same thing..." Garcia said slyly.

JJ smirked, "I think we both know what he was doing here... Or should I say _who_..."

"JJ!" Emily yelped, scandalized, a furious blush creeping up her cheeks. The two blondes shared a devious smile, Emily's incredulity all the proof they needed to know their suppositions were dead on.

"We're here because clearly Emily forgot that we were going to pick her up so we could get a head start on girls' night...probably because you two were too busy..."

"Oh, for God's sake, Garcia," Emily moaned, clamping a hand over Garcia's mouth, "Please, just stop talking." She shot JJ a glare as she started to giggle. "I don't care what you think we 'agreed' on, I know you just wanted to see how our date went."

JJ couldn't resist quipping, "Pretty well, I'd say..."

"JJ, I swear to God!" Emily rounded on Morgan, begging, "A little help, please?"

"Now, ladies," Morgan reasoned, "Nothing we say is going to change your minds, so you already have what you came here for. Now, why don't you take five from your little scheme, go get a coffee, and Emily can meet you when she's ready."

"No deal," Garcia insisted, "We've got a tight schedule, no time for you two to pick up where you left off..."

"Okay, okay," Emily cut off, "Fine, I'll go get ready." She was half-way up the stairs when she turned back to threaten, "But I'm never going to forgive you for this..."

The other two women rolled their eyes at her theatrics. Then, waiting until she was out of earshot, they turned to Morgan who suddenly felt a shiver of fear run the length of his spine.

"So..." Garcia began nonchalantly, "You finally got the girl of your dreams..." He braved a wary smile. "But now that you're dating our best friend, we've got to warn you... We love you, but us girls have to stick together."

"In short, if you hurt her, we'll have to seriously maim you," JJ warned, "Pull your intestines out through your nose or something horrible like that."

He grimaced before becoming deadly serious, "I promise I'll never, ever do anything to hurt her. She means too much to me..."

Just then, Emily came back down the stairs, trying to pretend she hadn't overheard his earnest sentiments by disguising her smile with a scowl. "Alright, let's go," she said dejectedly.

But before JJ and Garcia could pull her out the door, she and Morgan shared a quick kiss and a significant look, neither of which went unnoticed by the two blondes who grinned at each other.

******

Morgan smiled into the phone; hearing his mother always brightened his mood which had fallen a little when JJ and Garcia had effectively kidnapped Emily from him.

"So, what do you want for Christmas, Mom?" he asked.

He could hear her smiling as she replied, "Same thing I want every year... You to find a nice girl and settle down and finally give me some grandbabies."

He shook his head. "I should have guessed."

"I'm serious!" she scolded gently, "We're not getting any younger; you need to find a girl before it's too late."

"Hey, now," he said in mock hurt, "I've still got it, it's not gonna be too late for a long time yet." She made a little noise of skepticism. "What? You don't believe me?"

"I'm just saying, old age can sneak up on you fast."

Chuckling, he said, "Well, you may just get your wish this year...or at least half of it..." There was a long moment of silence and he thought maybe she had gone into shock. "Mom? Please tell me I didn't just give you a heart attack..."

She laughed, "You just might have." Her tone then became deadly serious. "Please tell me you aren't joking. Do you really have a girlfriend?" He said nothing, letting her jump to conclusions based on his smug silence. "Tell me about this girl," she demanded with barely contained glee.

"Actually, you've met her before..." It was clear that she was intrigued, if not a little hesitant, and he suddenly felt a tug of anxiety, hoping to live up to her high standards. "Do you remember Agent Prentiss?"

"Yes..."

He cringed a little at the one of her voice and quickly backpedaled, trying to justify his feelings. "We've always been best friends and I guess, I've always just wanted something more..."

"Do you love her?" she interrupted, cutting right to the chase.

"Mom!" he groaned. Then, he quietly admitted, "...Yes..."

"As long as you're happy and you're giving me grandchildren, I'm happy too."

"Mom!" he groaned again.

"And you'd better bring her home with you when you visit for Christmas."

"Yes, mother."

******

Emily sighed, tossing and turning; she'd been unable to fall back asleep since JJ had woken her up with her nightmare.

Groaning aggravatedly, she reached for her phone to check the time. 3:47 AM. Too early to give up on getting back to sleep, late enough that she would be totally exhausted tomorrow.

A flashing notification on the screen announced that she had missed a call, presumably while she was asleep since she had turned it to silent.

She shut her eyes, shielding them from the dim light streaming through the window with her arm, as she listened to the voicemail. She smiled as she heard a familiar voice.

"_Sorry to interrupt what I'm sure are crazy fun times, but I missed you today... Is that sad, that it's only been two days and I already can't go a day without you?"_

She smiled, suddenly not feeling so silly for having missed him just as much.

"_Anyway, if you haven't seen the weather forecast yet, I probably won't be seeing you any time soon... So, I just wanted to tell you I love you."_

A quick glance at the window confirmed that a heavy snowstorm had indeed blown in and would probably hamper commuting for at least a few hours in the morning. Meaning that their plans to spend the day together would be a total wash.

"_But maybe, if the roads are clear later, I could see you tonight? But it's late, go back to sleep, call me when you get this." He paused. "In case you can't tell, I'm not very good at this..."_

Her heart warmed upon hearing his message and suddenly, she didn't feel quite so wide awake, knowing that the sooner she fell asleep, the sooner she could be with him again.


	15. No Matter What

_December 15th - No Matter What_

"I think you made a wrong turn."

"I didn't."

"I thought we were going back to your place," Morgan said, confused. "It's on the left. Don't tell me you're so excited to see me that you forgot where you live," he grinned cheekily. Emily rolled her eyes and made no move to turn back. "Admit it, you missed me..."

"Yes, I missed you." Her attempt to glare at him was undercut by her giggling softly. "I did miss you, but I still remember where I live. We're just not going home yet."

"Then, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise..."

******

The mall was crowded; it was always crowded. Emily and Derek waded through the throngs of teenagers, couples, senior citizens, and strollers.

"What are we doing here, Em?" he asked, obviously not excited over her so-called surprise.

"Well, you asked me to go back to Chicago with you for Christmas and I obviously can't go empty handed."

"Yeah, but I hate shopping," he argued lightly, hoping to change her mind; but he already knew that he'd give in as soon as she used her puppy dog eyes on him. He sighed inwardly; only three days and she already had him wrapped around her finger.

"That's a shocker," she said. "Come on, I need your help. Please?" she pouted.

"You know I can't say 'no' to you, right?" he sighed.

Emily grinned and replied cheekily, "Actually, that's why I decided to go out with you. I can get you to do anything I want."

"Ouch... That was cold." He pouted and brought his hand up to his heart, pretending he was wounded.

"I'm sorry..." she said, "Should I kiss it better?"

"Absolutely."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him gently. "By the way, there's a Victoria's Secret somewhere in the mall. If we finish our shopping early, we might have time to check out the store," she whispered against his lips.

As soon as Morgan's mind processed what she had just said, he quickly changed to business mode. "Mama loves to entertain. Desiree's a bookworm like you. And Sarah is really into teasing me and clothes."

She laughed again and tugged him towards Macy's, "Let's go."

******

"Are you sure they're going to like me?" Emily asked pensively.

Morgan switched his grip on the shopping bags to the other hand so he could hold her empty mitten-clad hand. "Shall I point out that they've already met you?"

"It's not the same," she insisted, "Then I was just your colleague, now I'm your girlfriend... That's a world of difference."

"Trust me, I'm sure they'll love you almost as much as I do; you'll fit right in with my family."

"Are you sure?" she asked again.

"In my mother's eyes, any woman who gets me to settle down can do no wrong... After a few days with her, you'll be wishing she liked you a little less; she's probably already started planning our wedding and naming our kids..." A reluctant smile began playing across her lips, but he still sensed a note of hesitation. "And it doesn't really matter what they think of you, because I'll love you no matter what their opinion is, there is nothing in the world that could possibly change my mind."

Then, her smile grew. "I hope you still remember that when it comes time to meet my mother..."

"Nothing will ever change my mind," he repeated.

"You're such a sweet talker..."

He laughed lightly. "Does that mean that we can break in my gift when we get home?" he asked slyly, brandishing the Victoria's Secret bag.

She laughed as well, any traces of worry gone. "I think that could be arranged..."

******

Morgan frowned slightly as he came into the living room where a single pale light broke through the midnight darkness. "Em, what are you doing up?"

She quickly stood, turning to look at him, a little startled. "I couldn't sleep," she shrugged, "I figured that as long as I was awake, I might was well be doing something productive." She gestured at her work of wrapping the gifts they had bought earlier. "Ever have one of those dreams where you know you've got some really important work or something to do and you dream about doing it, then wake up panicked because you're not finished?"

He laughed, "I think the gift wrapping can wait until tomorrow." In the ensuing pause, he came up behind her and began pressing gentle kisses down the back of her neck. "Come back to bed."

"I'm almost finished," she said half-seriously, half-teasingly, "Just another twenty minutes or so..."

He tightened his fingers on her hips, pulling her closer against his body. "I don't think I like the sound of that..."

She giggled. "And what are you gonna do to stop me?" she challenged.

"This." He wrapped an arm behind her knees and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her back towards the bedroom.

"Good answer."


	16. Beauty and the Beast

_December 16th - Beauty and the Beast_

Morgan smiled to himself, adoring the way Emily pretended she couldn't skate, clinging tightly to him as if she needed help to keep from falling; but he could tell that it was all an act. Not that he was about to complain about being able to hold her close.

She dug the pick of her skate blade into the ice, causing herself to stumble, falling into his arms. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and leaned in close to whisper, "You know I know you're faking, right?"

"Yeah," she said simply, closing the distance between them to kiss him gently. "But we only have so long before everyone else gets here..."

They'd arrived at the rink a little while before everyone else was supposed to show up, cherishing a little alone time on the quintessential winter date. And, knowing they only had a limited amount of time, she couldn't resist a little public display of affection.

"Well, by all means, please continue..." He kissed her again, more passionately. Teasingly, she pulled away, skating backwards and tugging him after her.

"Do you ever think we should tell them?" he asked suddenly.

"After four days? I think not," she said slowly, "Don't you think it's a little soon?"

"I don't see any point in waiting," he said sincerely, "Since I still plan on it being true for the rest of our careers, for the rest of our lives. Don't you?"

The sheen of sentimental tears sprung to her eyes; it never ceased to amaze her just how head-over-heels in love with her he seemed to be. "Of course, ideally we'll be together forever, but there's still a lot we don't know after not even a week; who knows what might happen in the near future..." She had to be realistic. She didn't really believe that something was going to come between them, but she also hadn't expected to have her father abandon her...sometimes there were just some things beyond your control. Sometimes fate had other plans for you and there was nothing you could do to change them.

"I know, but I can't possibly foresee anything that will change how _I_ feel..."

She sighed and fixed him with her best pleading look. "Can we just keep it between us for a little while longer?" she beseeched, "I like having a secret between just us." She tenderly ran a hand over his chest, leaning close to whisper seductively, "It's kinda sexy..."

"You're right; they probably know already anyway." He turned her face towards him to kiss her again.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she said lightly, a laugh lilting her voice as he pulled back, "But the party-crashers are here..."

******

Morgan was still chuckling to himself as Emily pulled Reid back onto his feet, then gave him a lesson in stick-handling and puck control.

As Garcia and JJ skated up to him, he commented, "This should be an interesting game..."

"Depends what you mean by 'interesting'..." Garcia said mysteriously.

"If you mean it'll be interesting when we win, then I completely agree," JJ added, just as ambiguously.

He gave a little snort of laughter. "You couldn't even stop Reid from scoring..._Reid_. I'm pretty sure you won't be winning."

"Oh, really?" The two blondes shared a look and he suddenly got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I think you're going to let us win," Garcia said slyly, "And I think you're going to keep quiet about it."

He frowned, shrugging. "Doesn't sound like something I'd do..."

"Oh, I think it does. Perhaps you forget that I have a very interesting section of security camera footage saved to my computer labelled 'December twelfth, hallway outside Morgan's condo'...and a long list of emails of people who I'm sure would be very intrigued by said footage..." She paused, giving him a chance to do the math.

His face paled. "You... You..." he stammered, "You wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't we?" JJ challenged.

He wasn't sure whether they were bluffing or not, you could never really tell with them. But it was important to Emily that no one know about them just yet; he wouldn't mind having everything in the open, not having to hide his love for her anymore, but he wanted her to be happy. Sighing, he reluctantly conceded, "Alright ladies, looks like you've got yourselves a deal. Just try not to make me look too bad..."

******

"I've gotta say, I really expected you to be much better at hockey..." Emily pointed out as they got home that evening.

"What can I say?" he shrugged, "I guess hockey's just not my sport...there had to be something I'm not good at..."

She laughed lightly. "I don't think you understand just how much you suck..."

He smiled; she looked so adorable, her cheeks flushed a light pink from the slight winter chill, her hair a little mussed, her whole face lit up with happiness. He didn't really mind losing if it made her so happy, if having him all to herself was what she wanted. "I've gotta say, I expected you to be much more modest..." he jabbed playfully.

She mirrored his nonchalant shrug, "What can I say? It's hard to be modest when you're this awesome."

He chuckled and, taking her skates from where they were slung over her shoulder by the laces, he asked, "So, where'd you learn to skate so well? You could probably give Ovechkin a run for his money..."

"I don't know about that..." She blushed a little at his flattery. "When we lived in Russia, there was a little pond just off the property that was always frozen over. When Mother was busy, my nanny would sometimes take me out and teach me how to skate...there's not a lot to do when it's always winter. It always made me feel like Belle from 'Beauty and the Beast'...it was an escape from reality..." She paused, seeing the way he was looking at her. "What?"

"Just thinking about how much you're like Belle..."

"What?" she laughed lightly. "Really?"

"You lived in France, you love to read, a little misunderstood..." He pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. "Drop-dead gorgeous. In love with a gruff, uncivilized beast who'd die without your love... I knew there's a reason I like calling you Princess."

She smiled brightly, her heart melting. "You're such a sweet-talker..."


	17. Lead Balloon

_December 17th - Lead Balloon_

Morgan was on his way home after having dropped Garcia off when he got Emily's slightly frantic phone call.

"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly upon hearing the uneasy, wavering tone of her voice.

"_Dinner with my dad isn't going so well..." _she said quietly, _"Do you think you could come down here?" _She almost seemed embarrassed to ask him for help.

Any apprehension he may have felt about interfering in her father-daughter relationship never even entered his mind upon hearing the sad tone to her voice. "Of course, I'll be there as soon as I can. What happened?"

"_We got into a bit of an argument... Apparently, this isn't going to be as easy as I had thought..." _She gave a small humorless laugh as if she were foolish for having expected anything else.

"Just hang in there," he assured, "I'll be right there." He quickly turned the car around, ready to be the knight in shining armour for his damsel in distress.

******

Emily bit anxiously at her lip, drumming her fingers against the table for lack of anything else to do with her nervous energy. Every few minutes, she glanced at her watch, wondering what was taking Morgan so long; it seemed like eons had passed since she had called him. But that was at least partially due to the fact that making small talk with her father felt like getting a root canal, which she would gladly have alternatively undergone right about now.

As jaded and skeptical as she had become, she'd had hope that this dinner might change things between her and her father, no matter what the little voice of reason in the back of her mind kept insisting. The little girl inside her, the one who had waited patiently for his phone call week after week, refused to believe that he'd abandon her a second time.

But seeing as normal civilized adult conversation had gone over like a lead balloon, she was feeling foolish for having ever thought this story might have a happy ending. Now, she was just counting down the minutes until she could leave and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

His voice cut through her thoughtful trance like a hot knife through butter. "Emily, I'm sorry for snapping at you, I was just frustrated. You have to understand that this isn't easy for me..."

"And you think it's easy for me?" she retorted, trying to keep her voice even, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

"I'm sure it isn't, but I don't think you're giving me a fair chance; I really am trying..."

She shut her eyes, taking a slow deep breath to maintain a calm facade. Why didn't he just quit while he was ahead, while they were at least pretending to be civil? Slowly, she said, "Trying or not, this isn't just something you can erase and it's like it never happened. It's going to take time before I can trust you again."

She already knew that she had gotten her stubborn, hot-headed streak from her father, but tonight it was becoming clear just how deep those waters ran. "What more do I have to do? There's only so much I can do to prove to you that I really mean it..."

"I'm not asking you to do anything," she snapped, "I'm asking you to give me some time to think things over, to get used to this; it's not going to happen overnight or over one dinner. You can't just repair thirty years of pain with a band-aid and an apology!"

"So, how long is it going to take? I can't wait forever for you to decide that you really can trust me again..."

As much as she tried to stay calm, she felt her blood start to boil. "Your apology, your love, has an expiry date?" she hissed incredulously, "How long do you think it should take to get over the pain of losing your favorite parent, of being abandoned?"

At that, he seemed to realize how she had misconstrued his words. "That's not what I meant..." he tried to backpedal.

"Then how did you mean it?"

"I was just trying to say..." he fumbled to explain.

She didn't let him finish as thirty years of pent-up emotion came spilling forth in a rush of tears. "Do you even care that when you walked out that door, you took my childhood with you? I waited for you to call, to come back, and cried myself to sleep when you never did! Do you know how much it hurts to feel like the one person who should love you unconditionally never cared about you at all, like they were just waiting for something better to come along?"

She choked back a sob and was about to continue when Morgan rushed over, ignoring the protests of the maitre d'. He pulled her into a hug, gently pressing a kiss to her forehead, and murmuring soothingly. He shot a glacial glare at her father across the table as Emily cried against his shoulder.

After a minute or two, she composed herself and, pulling out of his arms slightly, smiled her thanks for coming to her rescue. "I'm sorry I ruined your evening, making you drive all the way out here," she whispered.

"Em, honey, what happened?" he asked softly, feeling a little disconcerted at the break in her mask of composure. "What did _he_ do to make you cry?" He emphasized the word as if it were bitter in his mouth, leached with his anger towards anyone who could cause her so much pain.

"This doesn't concern you," her father snapped, returning Morgan's glare. "This is a conversation between myself and my daughter and I'll thank you not to interrupt."

"It concerns me when someone makes my girlfriend cry and apparently doesn't even feel bad for hurting her!" Morgan replied acidly.

Emily seemed to collect herself a little and instantly jumped to Morgan's defence. "At least Derek would never abandon me," she said acerbically, "At least he actually cares..."

"Emily, I really do care..." her father plead.

But Morgan wasn't buying it. "Em, you don't have to believe him; let's just go home." He then rounded on her father, his mind still boggled over how he could have abandoned a girl like Emily. "How does someone who really cares just leave? How do you walk away from a little girl who loves you and needs you? How do you just piss away the greatest thing in your life?"

Her father cast another stony look at Morgan. "You don't understand..."

Morgan cut him off, "Like hell I don't understand how you could possibly have walked away from..."

He didn't let him finish, instead turning to Emily who had a white-knuckled grip on Morgan's hand. "Do you seriously trust him, this complete stranger, someone you're not even related to, over your own father?"

"He's not a stranger. Less so than you..." she said harshly, "You'll have to forgive me for siding with him, but he's been in my life for five years and doesn't seem to plan on walking away...who does that _not _sound like?" She stood up and pulled on her coat. "Always nice to talk to you," she said ironically as she walked away and pulling Morgan along with her.

She kissed him gently as soon as they were outside, letting him know she couldn't have gotten through that without him there to bolster her courage.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked softly.

"I have no idea..."


	18. You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch

_December 18th - You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch_

Morgan had spent the entire day trying to think of something he could do to cheer Emily up. She had been understandably upset the previous evening when her reconciliation dinner with her father had deflated faster than a balloon in a porcupine cage, but the next morning, knowing she had to go to work, she had been her usual stoic unreadable self. Of course, he knew it was all an act because, if she wasn't the face of composure, then she didn't really know who she was...at least, so long as anyone other than Morgan was there to witness said weakness. She had slowly been opening herself up to letting herself be vulnerable, knowing that he would always be there to catch her when she fell.

And, though it sucked that she hadn't been able to make peace with her father, he couldn't help but feel that, while her relationship with her father had crashed and burned, her relationship with him had reached a turning point. He had thought it was going to be awhile before he managed to convince her that, despite his past relationship history, he really did want to settle down with her for the rest of his life. He had been a little surprised then, upon hearing her say just how firmly she believed in him, how sure she was of his love and devotion. And, as sad as the night had been, he couldn't help the rush of love that coursed through his system at those simple words that meant the world.

But he still felt bad when she had to compartmentalize for anyone's sake, especially knowing how torn up inside she really was. So, he had been scrambling for some brilliant idea to take her mind off it after having watched her drift through the work-day, only half there.

******

He lead her down to the snowy courtyard behind her apartment, demanding she keep her eyes closed in anticipation of the surprise. He convinced her to take a nap once they got home, knowing she had tossed and turned most of the night, giving himself time to prepare a romantic little winter picnic, sure that that would lift her spirits at least a little.

"Open your eyes," he commanded softly, bringing her to a stop just short of the little blanket he had set out.

For a few moments as she fully absorbed what he had done, there was an awed silence. She tightened her grip on his hand, turning to him with a soft sheen of tears in her eyes. "You did all this for me?" she whispered reverently.

"I cooked and everything," he said proudly.

"But why? Why did you go to all that trouble?"

"You needed cheering up..." he said earnestly, "I had to do something."

She hugged him, murmuring against his chest, "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Enough of that," he gently reprimanded, "I'm trying to make you smile and you're getting all weepy again..."

She giggled lightly and let him pull her down onto the blanket and wrap her up in a thick quilt. "This is very sweet of you," she thanked him, "You really didn't have to do this." And, before he could protest that he had wanted to do it, she asked, "So, what's for dinner?"

He handed her a steaming bowl. "It's nothing too special," he shrugged apologetically, "But it'll stick to your ribs. And I promise it tastes much better than it looks..."

She smiled; it did look a little sketchy, but he had clearly tried very hard, so she refuted, "It looks fine and I'm sure it tastes excellent." She already knew he was a better cook than her and it had been awhile since she'd had a real home-cooked meal.

"At least dessert looks as good as it tastes," he assured, pouring out mugs of hot chocolate.

She shook her head as if in disbelief. "You're too good to be true."

******

Emily had been in such a good mood after dinner that Morgan had even managed to convince her to watch 'The Grinch', despite the fact that she still maintained that she didn't like Christmas movies.

As she snuggled into his embrace, she said, "I don't think I'll ever understand how you constantly manage to convince me to watch cheesy Christmas movies that I hate..."

"How do you know you hate it if you've never seen it?" he pointed out logically. "I don't know how you could possibly live to be your age and never once have watched the original animated Grinch..."

"Are you calling me old?" she accused playfully.

"We're the same age," he said with fake exasperation, joking, "So, yes..."

She giggled. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Hush up, silly girl, it's starting." She had to hold back a grin as he mouthed along with the words of Boris Karloff, finding his child-like love of the movie completely endearing.

"_Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot, but the Grinch who lives just North of Whoville did not..."_

As much as she wanted to dislike all Christmas movies, purely out of spite, she found this one growing on her, the clever rhymes, the classic animation, the cheeky Thurl Ravenscroft song all so representative of her lost childhood. This was the epitome of everything she had missed out on.

Before she really knew what was happening, she found herself watching with a youthful reverence, completely captivated.

And, Morgan would never let her live down just how much she had enjoyed it, teasing that her heart grew three sizes that day.


	19. Fighting Fears

_December 19th - Fighting Fears_

When Morgan knocked on Emily's hotel room door that night, he had a feeling he would find her a little upset. They were all rather disconcerted upon hearing that Garcia's condition had taken a turn for the worst, but Emily was the kind of person who blamed herself when bad things happened to the people she cared about. It was almost as if she felt like she could stop bad things from happening or at least have seen them coming if she had only been there more... And this was sure to be no exception.

She let him into the room and immediately flopped back on the bed, looking miserable. "Someone should have stayed with her..." she lamented.

"Reid's right," he reminded, "She obviously didn't want us to stay, she didn't want to talk to us. There's nothing we could have done by staying."

She wasn't convinced. "You heard her," she argued, "She didn't sound like herself... What if she's depressed? What if she's suicidal?"

"This is Garcia we're talking about... I just don't think that's something she'd do." He gently sat down next to her on the bed, pulling her head into his lap, and softly stroking her hair.

"That doesn't prove anything," she insisted, "Cancer patients are twice as likely to commit suicide than the average person... Who's to say that Garcia hasn't hit rock bottom? We really have no idea what she's going through."

"Em, honey, you need to listen to me," he said gently, sitting her up and forcing her to look in his eyes, "Whatever is going to happen will happen and we can't change that. You need to stop blaming yourself, there's nothing you can do and you just have to accept that. We've done everything we possibly could for her."

She bit at her lip contemplatively as if deciding whether or not she believed him. Eventually, she just leaned into his waiting embrace. "This sucks..." she murmured quietly, her words muffled by his chest, "This is why I hate Christmas; nothing ever goes right for me...people leave, families fall apart, friends get sick and die, fathers come back only to break your heart a second time..."

He felt his heart ache as he felt her tears soaking through his shirt. He pulled her closer so she was sitting in his lap, wrapping his arms tighter around her. Kissing the top of her head, he asked, "It's not all bad, though, is it? If it weren't for this Christmas, I wouldn't have you..."

She looked up at him, a few stray tears clinging to her lashes like dew on a blade of grass. "That's true..." she said softly, "If we hadn't found out Garcia was sick, I might not have you..."

"And you'll finally get a real Christmas when we go down to Chicago," he added, wiping away her tears. "Just replace all the bad memories, the sadness, with the new memories, of your first real Christmas, of us together..." He kissed her softly on the lips, tracing his fingers up and down her arms.

"You know..." she said slowly, a hint of lightness to her voice, "You make it really hard to be depressed..."

"Thank you."

She broke into a small smile, "I didn't mean that as a compliment..."

"Sure you did," he said smugly, hugging her tighter so she couldn't hit him. "Do you mind if I keep you company for a little while?" he asked, "There's a teenaged hockey team staying in the room next to mine and I guess they must have just won a game or something because they're celebrating really noisily..."

She chuckled, then said honestly, "I'd mind if you _didn't _stay..." He smiled as she snuggled closer to him while he traced nonsensical patterns against her back through the thin fabric of her pyjama top. After a few moments of comfortable silence, she asked, "So, what is a Morgan-family Christmas really like? How did you spend your happy childhood Christmases?"

"Well, my mother usually started baking in October...and started decorating the first day of December. I think she would have started earlier if not for fear of appearing eccentric..." he laughed. "But it's probably a good thing she didn't bake more, since we were still eating Christmas cookies well into February already..."

"And you helped with the baking?" she asked, still finding it hard to believe that the man who never thought twice about tackling an unsub or kicking down a door was a skilled baker.

"Of course, any chance I got. And I always helped cook Christmas dinner...mostly because I didn't want to have to help with dishes."

"And did you write to Santa?" she asked, seemingly enthralled by the tales of his Christmases, living vicariously the childhood she never really got to have.

"Every year until I was fifteen. I still have every letter he wrote back."

Spending all day worrying seemed to have worn her out because it wasn't long before she was fast asleep in his arms. He kissed her forehead gently and settled himself in to spend the night, knowing there was no way he could he get up without waking her. Not that he minded, since there was nowhere he'd rather be.

******

Emily awoke with a start at the sound of a series of loud crashes out in the hall, presumably the hockey team wreaking unsupervised havoc. She yawned and stretched, very nearly hitting Morgan, who evidently hadn't been disturbed by the ruckus, in the process. She silently cursed his ability to sleep through almost anything.

She hadn't realized that he had stayed the night after she had inadvertently fallen asleep. But, upon waking up to find him asleep, still holding her tightly in his arms, she felt her heart swell with happiness. It probably wasn't the most comfortable way to sleep, but he hadn't wanted her to wake up alone, knowing that she had been rather upset the night before. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what she had done to deserve someone like him, someone who was so good to her.

As she softly traced her fingers over his peaceful face, she was suddenly struck by the realization of how much she loved waking up with him, how much she loved falling asleep in his arms. She didn't want to ever wake up with anyone else. She wanted this to be how she spent every day for the rest of her life.

She gently shook him, attempting to wake him up. "Derek," she whispered, "Derek, wake up."

He groggily blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. "Sleeping..." he murmured, shutting his eyes again and burying his face against her shoulder.

She giggled. "Derek, wake up..." She kissed him tenderly to entice him back into awakeness.

"Well, when you ask so nicely..." He scrubbed a hand over his face, still fighting the remanents of tiredness.

"I want to tell the team about us."

"What?" His brain was fighting the shackles of sleep.

"I want them to know," she repeated, "I don't want to have to hide anymore. Since this is forever..."

"Really?" A hopeful smile flitted across his face.

"Really."

His smile grew impossibly brighter. "I love you." And he pulled her in for a kiss to prove just how happy he was over her change of heart.


	20. Musings of a Five Year Old Self

_December 20th - Musings of a Five Year Old Self_

Suddenly remembering the question she had asked him the night before, Morgan abruptly turned to Emily and asked, "Did you write to Santa when you were little?"

She looked at him sadly. "Well, considering I couldn't really write when I was four, no. Since, I didn't really see any point in writing him the following years, knowing no one would write back..."

There were a lot of things about a little girl who didn't believe in Santa that broke his heart, but hearing that she hadn't even believed long enough to send him a single letter just killed him.

She must have seen that written in his expression because she quietly asked, "What?"

He didn't want to admit outright that he felt sorry for her, knowing that she didn't want anyone to pity her, least of all him. He shrugged and said gently, "I just wish things could have been easier for you growing up."

She gave a humorless half-smile. "That makes two of us," she sighed.

He was silent for several minutes and she couldn't be sure whether he was brooding on the subject or whether that was the extent to which they were going to discuss the matter. Then, so quietly she was barely sure he had spoken at all, he said, "You should do it now..."

"What?"

He looked up, meeting her eyes with dead seriousness. "You should write a letter to Santa Claus now."

"I'm a grown woman," she scoffed, the first of many reasons she could think of not to write the legendary figure who supposedly brought gifts to children all over the world. "I'm not writing a letter to an imaginary man who lives at the North Pole."

"He's not imaginary," he replied resolutely, "He lives in the heart of every little kid who has nothing and no one else to believe in; they could lose everything, but Santa would always be there. I'm sure if you look deep inside, you'll remember that there was a part of you that kept believing long after you knew the 'truth'..."

She looked at him with a raised brow. "You sound like a cheesy Christmas movie."

"Is that a yes?" he persisted.

She frowned, obviously debating internally. "Promise you'll never tell anyone?"

"Not a soul."

"Fine," she relented with a histrionic sigh, rummaging in her bag for paper and a pen. Pen half-way to the paper, she paused. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to write..."

"There's no wrong answer," he prompted, "Pretend you're a kid again; what would five-year-old Emily have asked Santa to bring her? If you could have had anything in the entire world, what is the one thing that would have made you happy?"

******

Morgan waited until she fell asleep before reading her letter. She hadn't been trying to hide it, even offering to let him read it, but he had a feeling that she felt a little foolish writing it and knew that she was secretly glad when he had declined.

But he wanted to know what she had written, wanted to see the little piece of her soul that she had bared upon that page.

By the sickly yellow glow of the slowly dying lightbulb, he read the graceful, hesitant lettering he equated with her being deliberate and pensive.

_'This is stupid...' _had been scratched out at the top of the page. He chuckled to himself at how much of her stubborn personality was contained in that simple statement.

Evidently, she had decided to really try after that, but it was clear that she wasn't exactly comfortable with this kind of letter. _'Dear Santa: I'm not really sure how this is supposed to go, so you'll have to forgive me if I get it wrong...'_

Slowly though, she seemed to get the hang of it, judging from the way her writing became less controlled and more honest. _'This is probably thirty years too late...'_ Certain sentences stuck with him with their poignant sadness, making him wish that he could leap into the past and give five-year-old Emily a big hug and tell her that no matter how dark things seemed at the moment, they would get better; to tell her that the only person who could take away her belief in Santa was herself...

The part that really broke his heart though, was the part where she had confessed the only thing in the world that would have made her happy was to have a real family, a father who'd never left and a mother who really cared. Reading those words, he felt like he could see into the soul of that little girl as she cried herself to sleep at night.

_'I wish Daddy had never left...or that he had taken me with him. I wish he hadn't stopped loving me. I wish I could have been a better daughter...then maybe he would have wanted to stay. I just wish I could have been a regular kid who had two parents who cared._

_And I wish I could trust him now... I wish I could find it in my heart to forgive him or forget him and move on. I wish I didn't care...or he did. I don't want to cry one more tear over him. I wish this could be easy...'_

He folded up the letter and put it in his pocket. The second they got home, he was going to give that letter to her father. Then, perhaps he would understand how she felt, how hurt she was. If this didn't make him realize that, by walking out that door, he had broken her heart into a million little pieces, then nothing would.


	21. Thirty Years Late

_December 21st - Thirty Years Late_

Evidently, the case, the many sleepless nights, the worry, had really taken their toll on Emily because, for the second time that day, she fell asleep in the car before reaching their destination. Morgan smiled to himself at her child-like ability to fall asleep almost anywhere. He carefully lifted her out of the car, balancing her in his arms as he attempted to unlock the front door to her apartment without setting her down or waking her up.

Finally, setting her down gently in her bed, he kissed her forehead. And, as much as he wanted to climb into bed beside her and hold her close, with one last wistful look, he quietly left her room. He had something important to do before he could sleep.

******

An hour later, he knocked sharply on the door belonging to the one person he didn't feel bad hating despite not really knowing him. But he had something extremely important to tell him, otherwise he wouldn't be here. He had to put aside their differences for the sake of the person he loved more than anyone in the world.

Emily's father opened the door and, seeing Morgan standing there, very nearly slammed the door in his face. But before he could, Morgan had a hand against the door, preventing him from shutting it completely.

"What do you want?" her father demanded.

"I have something you need to see," he said flatly, trying to keep the contempt he felt for this man from seeping into his voice.

Her father glared at him, but said nothing. He opened the door a fraction and Morgan thought he had gotten through to him. But, just as quickly, he made to slam the door shut a second time.

Once again, Morgan stopped him before the door met its frame. "Listen to me," he said, with slightly more venom than before, "You already broke your daughter's heart far more times than one person should have to suffer, but for reasons I can't understand, she still cares. And if you're any kind of a decent person, you should care as well. I'm here to give you another chance, although Lord knows you've had more than you deserve and screwed up every one of them... If you care at all about Emily, you'll listen to me."

For another excruciating moment, he just stared coldly at him, but finally stood back from the door just enough to allow Morgan to step inside the house. "What is so damn important that you came pounding on my door like the Gestapo?"

Morgan pulled Emily's letter to Santa out of his pocket. "You need to read this."

Her father took the letter and slowly scanned it. Morgan held his breath as the older man's expression slowly scrolled from confused to sad to realization. "Where did you get this?" he asked quietly.

"She wrote it last night and I kept it, thinking that if anything was going to get through it you, it was this." He fixed him with the most serious and threatening look he had in his arsenal, the one usually reserved for unsubs of a particularly despicable nature. "Now, what are you going to do about it?"

Morgan watched as he silently mouthed the words, _'I wish he hadn't stopped loving me.' _Looking up, he asked sadly, "She really thinks I didn't love her? She thinks I don't care?" Morgan gave him a look that obviously asked what he had ever done to make her think otherwise. "I really screwed up," he sighed, "I don't deserve her..."

Morgan resisted the urge to vehemently agree. "So, fix it," he urged, "Prove to her that you do care, that you do love her, that you never forgot about her. Prove that all her heart ache and tears weren't for nothing."

He swallowed thickly and nodded, running a flustered hand over his face. He seemed a little overwhelmed.

Morgan folded up the letter and put it back in his pocket. "You never read this letter and I was never here. If you screw this up, I'll make sure that it's the last thing you ever do, the last time Emily has to suffer for your mistake."

Suitably satisfied that he had gotten through to him, he was half-way out the door when a shaky voice called out from the living room, "Thank you... I know you don't think so, but I really do care about Emily and I intend to make this right."

******

When Morgan crawled into bed next to her, Emily awoke with a start. With a gentle hand on her hip, he pulled her close and kissed her softly. "Sorry I woke you up, baby," he whispered, "Go back to sleep."

Trailing her fingers over his face, she murmured blearily, "Where were you?"

"I just had an errand to run and I knew you needed the rest, so I dropped you off to let you sleep. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"It's okay; I'm just glad you're here now." She kissed him again. "I missed you lying next to me... No more late-night errands?"

He chuckled softly. "I promise. I'll be here as long as you need me to be here. Now, go back to sleep."

"I'll always need you."

******

Sleep refused to come easily that night, leaving him lying awake for hours until he gave up on the respite of sleep. He then spent the next several hours sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a photo album, one of the few remnants he still had of the life he'd abandoned.

The words of Emily's letter echoed through his head as if shouted into the depths of the Grand Canyon. She thought he hadn't loved her. She thought he'd left because of something she did. She wished she could just forget him.

He'd never really thought about how broken up she had been when he'd left, how hurt she still was. He supposed that he'd always seen her mother's strong, resilient spirit in her... But the truth was that she had just been a little girl. And, deep inside, she was still nursing that wounded child.

It was obvious now why she had been so reluctant to forgive him. He wouldn't have expected her to forgive him when she was still a child, so he shouldn't expect her to let it go so easily now. He would have to work hard to earn her trust again, give her all the answers she'd struggled to find for so long, but it would be worth it to have his little girl back.


	22. A World of Hurt

_December 22nd - A World of Hurt_

The silence overtaking the room seemed exceedingly loud as Emily stared down at the little doll placed in front of her, consciously avoiding looking at anyone or anything else. To anyone else, the slightly care-worn rag doll might not have seemed like anything special with its mop of black yarn hair, brown button eyes, and purple gingham dress, but when she'd first held it in her hands, tears had sprung to her eyes. For her first birthday, her grandmother had made a doll just like it for her and it had been like a security blanket of sorts since then. At least, until her mother had been stationed in the Ukraine for a few months, during which time the doll had become hopelessly lost, never to be found again. She'd been crushed when they'd had to go home without it.

"I had it made for you," her father said softly. In the silence, it sounded as if he'd shouted the words. "I wanted to give it to you as a Christmas gift that first year after..." He faltered, not wanting to actually say the words out loud. Judging by her expression though, she wanted to actually hear the words, for him to acknowledge what he'd done. So he steeled his nerves and pressed on, "After I left."

"Why?" she asked quietly, still not meeting his eyes.

"Even if I wasn't there, you were still my daughter and I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you; I wanted you to know that I still cared, that I still loved you."

Emily frowned; that hadn't been what she'd meant. "No, why did you bring it to me now? Why not then?"

"Back then, it was partially your mother not wanting me to have contact of any kind with you...and partially because I was ashamed... It was absolutely foolish of me to walk away from my family, only to end up with nothing..."

"But if you'd found something better, it would have been okay?" she interrupted, wounded.

"No," he quickly insisted, "It was never about finding something better, it was about doing the right thing. I always knew that you'd get along fine without me; sure, it would sting for a little while, but you'd get over it, you were strong and you had your mother to protect you. And I'd made some mistakes that I needed to make right."

Her eyes glittered with tears. Her breath hitching in her chest with choked back sobs, she asked, "What could possibly have been _so _important for you to just walk away?"

He looked away from her and she could instantly read the shame, the embarrassment written on his face. She tried to hold back her judgement, but had a feeling that whatever was coming next was far from good. He sighed heavily and, for a moment, she thought he was going to chicken out and make up some lie.

"I... I got another woman pregnant..." he admitted slowly, "Or, at least, I thought I did..." Her face was unreadable as she processed what he'd just told her, but he pressed on nonetheless. "I had to do the right thing and take care of the baby. So, I came clean and confessed all my sins to your mother; needless to say, she was terribly upset and angry. But she deserved to know the truth, you deserve the truth."

Once again, she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. She wondered how this was supposed to be making her feel any better.

Sighing wistfully, he continued, "I guess, I got what I deserved in the end... The baby wasn't mine and the mistress wanted nothing to do with me once I chewed her out for lying to me and causing me to leave my family. And, by that point, your mother was never going to take me back, not that I can blame her after everything I'd put her through. She swore I'd never see you again, she wanted so badly to protect you from me..."

A hundred thoughts swirling angrily through her head like a swarm of wasps, she struggled to find something to say, but could find no words. She just shook her head slightly, an incredulous look on her face.

"I'm not trying to make excuses for anything I've done. You were absolutely right, there's no way you'll ever be able to forgive me completely, all I can do is wait patiently and pray that one day you'll be able to trust me again."

She nodded slowly, opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped before doing so. She shook her head again, her mind reeling. "I think you should leave," she finally said, her voice soft, "I'm going to need some time. That's...that's a lot to unload on me all at once and I just can't...deal with it all right now..." A flash of disappointment crossed his face momentarily before she continued, "But I'm going to try... All I ever wanted was the truth, I needed to know why. And, now that I know, I can start to work on all the deeper issues."

He tried to mask the surprise that flitted across his face. "You...you don't hate me?"

She gave a terse smile. "Well, I'm not exactly your biggest fan right now, but what's done is done, we can't do anything about it now... All we can do now is deal with it, learn to live with it, and try to move on. That's life..."

He nodded, not really sure what else to do. He hadn't expected her to take it so well, hadn't anticipated her just brushing it all off like it was nothing. Not that he was complaining. "Em," he said gently, placing a hand on hers, "I want you to know that I really am sorry. If I could have taken you with me, I would have; I never _wanted _to leave you behind. It was the biggest mistake of my life and I would give anything to take it all back."

"I know," she whispered. It was clear that she wished that even more than he did. "But you can't..."

******

"And he just accepted that?" Morgan asked, gently pressing for details of the interaction with her father. He was admittedly surprised it had gone over so smoothly after the catastrophes that were their last few run-ins.

Emily shrugged slightly. "I told him I'd call him when I was ready to work things out. And he thanked me and left..."

He watched silently as she very carefully unwrapped the candy cane patterned paper covering the small box in her hands, determinedly avoiding tearing the paper. He looked down at the rag doll in his hands again, trying to imagine how upset she must have felt when she'd lost the original doll and how suddenly having this reminder must have left her broken up inside.

Her voice brought him back to reality. "Are you gonna help me or not?" she asked lightly, pushing one of the boxes towards him.

He smiled, "Only if I can rip the wrapping paper." She rolled her eyes. "Explain to me again why we're unwrapping a whole bunch of out-dated Christmas gifts?"

Again, she shrugged ambiguously. "Part of his sudden change of heart..." she said eventually, "He said he wanted to prove that he'd never forgotten me, that he'd always wanted to be a part of my life...that he never stopped loving me..." Her gaze drifted over the various gaudily wrapped boxes. "Every Christmas gift he'd gotten me but never sent... He said he was too ashamed...he didn't want to drag all his sins back through our lives."

He sensed something in what was said or rather, hadn't been said, that he couldn't quite place. "What's eating at you?" he asked softly.

She bit at her lip, frowning. "I don't know what to think," she admitted, "I don't know what to believe... It's easy to fake remorse, humility; this proves nothing. I don't know if I should trust him – or even if I can..." She wanted to say something more, but didn't have the right words.

He accepted that, sensing her struggle. "You'll figure it out," he said with genuine belief, "And I'll be here to help."

She smiled faintly. Turning back to the gifts, she carefully lifted an envelope, one of several, turning it over in her hands as if afraid that it might burst into flames at any moment. Judging by the year printed on the back, it was from the year she had turned eighteen. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper, so faint he almost missed it, "Eventually he had to stop buying gifts because he didn't know what to get me..." She faltered, sighing with a shaky breath. A sob tumbled from her lips as she continued, "He didn't know me well enough to know what I liked..."

His heart ached as she once again started to cry. It didn't sit right with him that, in the last month, he'd seen her cry more times than the last five years combined. He hated seeing her so torn apart, so vulnerable; her father held so much power over her and he had no idea what he was doing to her, how much pain he was inflicting.

Wordlessly, he pulled her into his lap, clutching her against his chest. She collapsed into him with a heaving sob, her whole body wracked by her tears. He stroked her back, pressed soft kisses against her head, murmuring quiet condolences.

"What should I do?" she choked out, "I don't want to get hurt again..."

"I'm sorry, baby," he said softly, shifting slightly to meet her gaze, "I don't have the answers you need... But I can promise you, I'll be here for everything."

"You promise?" she asked in a small, broken voice.

"I promise," he whispered, "I'll never leave you." He'd said it many times before and he'd continue saying it until she really believed it, until she realized that, no matter how many times she'd been hurt before, he would never do that to her. Sooner or later, she'd know. "I love you."


	23. The Duality of Awkwardness

_December 23rd - The Duality of Awkwardness_

Like every year, it started out as a quick trip to her mother's place to exchange obligatory gifts and terse pleasantries. Something she wanted to get through as quickly and painlessly as possible with a minimum of actual interaction.

But, while wrapping the gift, she had come to several realizations. She'd decided in the past month that she wanted to make more of an effort with her mother; if she was going to start changing her outlook about Christmas, she might as well work on the rest of her life too. And, after her dad's many shocking revelations the previous day, her opinions were starting to change...

For all her life, she had been blaming her mother for how her life had turned out. She blamed her for everything and she had always been sure that it was something her mother did that caused her father to leave. Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of remorse and guilt when her father had revealed that he was the one who made the mistake. All her mother wanted was protect her from more pain and tears... No doubt, her mother didn't do a terrific job and she wished that her mother would have taken a less aggressive route in protecting her, but at least she _tried_.

At that moment, standing outside her mother's place, she felt her heart hammering in her chest, unsure why she felt so nervous. Perhaps it was because it had been too long since she had last seen her. Perhaps it was because she was contemplating telling her mother that her father, the man they'd been pretending didn't exist, was back... What would she think?

"Emily..." her mother greeted, sounding mildly surprised to see her despite the fact that Emily had called ahead to warn her she was coming over.

"Mother." Emily gave a tight smile, more out of nervousness than tension. She mentally cursed, wondering why she always told Morgan she'd be okay without him when it seemed she would need him the most. Scolding herself for getting off track, she tried to force her expression to something more genuine. "I brought your gift," she said softly, "And my version of Christmas dinner..."

The Ambassador raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, merely stepping back to allow Emily entrance to the house. Leading her back towards the dining room, she can't help but ask, "What exactly do you mean by 'your version' of Christmas dinner?"

Emily smiled sheepishly, hoping her reply wouldn't go over like a lead balloon. "Turkey sandwiches and a salad made of whatever moderately-fresh vegetables I had in my refrigerator..."

There was a long moment of silence and Emily got that sinking feeling she always got whenever she knew her mother was not impressed. Maybe this whole extending the olive branch thing wasn't going to go quite as well as she had hoped... Then, something completely unexpected happened, her mother laughed. _Laughed_...

Emily almost keeled over from the shock. She had expected that reaction that morning when Morgan had laughed so hard he cried as she told him she was making 'Christmas dinner', but never in a million years had she expected it from her mother. But it seemed like progress, so she returned the smile.

"No wonder you're so thin," her mother said, "You eat like a college student."

Emily stopped in her tracks, looking at her mother suspiciously; there was definitely something strange going on, that was the most maternal thing her mother had ever said to her... Not that she was complaining. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother?"

The Ambassador rolled her eyes, but continued smiling. "Sit down."

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," she replied after a moment of hesitation. "How are you? You seem much happier. Are you seeing someone?

Emily smiled awkwardly, it wasn't everyday that her mother talked to her about boyfriends and relationships. "Yes, I am, actually. He makes me very happy. You've met him..." she said hesitantly, "Derek Morgan. We work together. You met him two years ago when you asked the team for help..."

"Ah...yes," Ambassador Prentiss nodded after taking a moment to recall, "Tall, dark, attractive."

"That's the one. Are you sure everything's okay?" Emily asked again, not completely convinced that her mother was alright.

"Why don't we talk later?" the older woman suggested, "We can have some of your 'dinner' and then I'll get my chef to make us some decent food."

"Sure," she shrugged, letting the jibe pass as she quietly ran the list of things her mother might be unwilling to tell her. Coming up blank, she decided to let it go for the time being. She handed her mother one of the sandwiches, then, with a small grin of pride, opened a container of cookies she had managed to salvage from Morgan's midnight snacking. "I helped bake them..." she said in answer to her mother's questioning glance.

The expression that quickly flitted across her face was some combination of surprised and impressed, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. She tentatively picked up one of the iced gingerbread men, which was charred black on the bottom.

Seeing her mother's raised eyebrow, Emily quickly added, "I'm still learning..."

As she returned a smile, Emily wondered not for the last time, what was up with the universe today...

******

Finishing the last few bites of the second or the 'real' dinner, Emily pushed away her plate, leaving the brussel sprouts untouched as always.

Her mother shot her an exasperated look. "Really, Emily? You're a grown woman..."

"You can't make me eat them," she challenged. Her mother shook her head as Emily added, "Brussel sprouts are gross. No one in the world likes them..."

The Ambassador was about to say something, but Emily cut her off before she could. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

She frowned, but quickly hid her discomfort, a well-perfected skill. "This has been such a lovely visit, let's not spoil it. We can talk about it some other time."

It was Emily's turn to look dissatisfied with the answer. "What's going on?" she pressed.

"Emily..."

"Don't 'Emily' me, _Mom_," Emily cut her off for the second time that day. "When are we going to talk again? Next Christmas? Why can't you just tell me what's going on?" she snapped.

"It's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" she laughed without a hint of humour. "I think I'm mature enough to handle whatever it is you have to tell me," she added.

Ambassador Prentiss nodded, "Fair enough. You have the right to know." She paused for several moments, as if contemplating the consequences of Emily knowing the truth. "Your father's back."

"Oh..."

"You don't look surprised," her mother commented matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," she said in a tone of what she hoped was nonchalance, "He..." The end of her sentence was lost as her voice got quieter.

Her mother raised an eyebrow, "What was that?"

She sighed, "He's been trying to see me..."

The Ambassador's face was blank, but Emily sensed the surprise and the slightest hint of anxiety she was obviously attempting to disguise. "And?"

"I just ran into him by accident first. But then he started calling me and I just wanted it to stop...so I agreed to meet with him... He wanted to try to fix things; I wasn't sure, but _all I've ever wanted _was to understand what happened, why he'd just left... So, I agreed to that too," Emily sighed, a hint of apology on her voice as if having contact with her father was in some way doing injury to her mother.

"Oh, Emily..."

She rushed to stem the tide of disappointment that would inevitably follow. "He told me everything..." She felt tears prickling at her eyes for reasons she didn't fully understand. "I'm _so _sorry..."

"Sorry for what, dear?"

"For everything," she whispered, her voice breaking from the strain of holding back tears. "I always thought it was something you did that drove Daddy away... I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell me?"

The Ambassador sighed and reached out to take Emily's hands. "I'm sorry," she began softly, "I just didn't have the heart to tell you that your father left because there was someone else. I didn't want you to think that he didn't want you. I'd rather let you hate me than to blame yourself for what happened. I'm sorry I haven't been a good mother to you."

"I haven't been a good daughter," she shrugged, "I guess we're even."

There were several long moments of silence; both wanted to say something, but neither of them knew the right words. They were afraid of saying something wrong.

Eventually, Emily spoke, "Did you ever wish that he would come back?"

"Sometimes," she replied in a soft whisper, "Sometimes I do wish that he had tried harder. Maybe I'd have taken him back... At least, you'd have had a complete family."

"But...?" she pressed, sensing more to the answer.

"...but I didn't want to open up that wound, to allow the possibility for more pain to enter our lives if he once again decided to stray. I just wanted to protect you, even if it was just from your father...you were my little girl."

With a tearful smile, Emily leaned over and hugged her mother who, at first was tense in the embrace, but quickly relaxed and hugged her daughter back.

She might not have had the perfect family, but the one she did have wasn't half bad...in its own strange little way.

******

"Emily? Baby, is everything okay?" Morgan called from the other side of the door leading to the bathroom. "You've been in there for a long time..."

They had just reluctantly returned from the hospital. Rossi had insisted that he take the first shift keeping vigil by Garcia's side and instructed everyone else to go home. Morgan knew it was hard for Emily to deal with so many things happening all at once, especially at Christmas, when everything should be nothing but joyful.

Since the ride home, she had been silent, and he didn't know what to say to make her feel better. Frankly, nothing anyone could say could make her or the rest of the team feel better...

Garcia had always been the one to put a smile on their faces and, with their resident cheerleader lying in bed and in danger, there was just nothing they could do to lessen the fear of losing her. The doctors weren't exactly optimistic about her chances of waking up.

There was no answer from Emily. Getting worried, Morgan knocked on the door again before rushing in. "I'm coming in!" he announced before opening the door. She hadn't locked the door, but even if she did, he would have kicked it open.

He went into the bathroom and found Emily wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and she was sitting on the side of the bathtub, crying softly. "Emily..." he whispered gently, kneeling before her and pulling her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder.

He thought he heard her say something, but it was so faint that he thought he might have imagined it. When she repeated herself, he felt his heart break. "Is it my fault?"

"Why would you say that?" he asked, hugging her tightly.

"Everyone I love leaves me or we grow apart," she said, "My dad, my mother, and now Garcia... Maybe it's my fault. Like I'm cursed or something..."

"That's ridiculous, Em," he insisted, "When something bad happens, it doesn't automatically make it your fault."

"But what if it is? What if something bad happens to you too?" She shifted to look him in the eye. "What if I lose you?"

"You're not cursed," he said firmly, "And you are _not _going to lose me. It's not your fault that your father fell in love with another woman and it's not your fault that your mother dealt with it by pushing you away; and it certainly isn't your fault that Garcia has cancer. You just happened to get caught in the middle... And there is nothing in the world that's going to take me away from you; come hell or high water, I'll be right here with you, until my dying breath...or you decide you don't need me anymore." It was a weak attempt at levity, but it was the best he could manage when she was in so much pain, falling apart at the seams as he struggled to pick up the pieces.

In hindsight, perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to mention dying, since she just collapsed against him again with a deflated sigh and continued to sob quietly.

He kissed her forehead softly and continued to soothe, "I can't promise that we'll never get sick or hurt or that things will always be easy... But I _can _promise that there will never be anyone else and I will do anything to make this work."

"I love you," she murmured quietly.

"Feel better?" he asked.

She nodded slowly and was silent for a long moment. Then, so softly he could barely hear, she whispered, "Can we just stay here for a little while longer? I haven't quite cried myself out yet..." Her gentle plea was punctuated by a soft sniffle.

"Of course," he assured, once again pulling her against his chest as her tears continued to flow.


	24. The First Time in a Long Time

_December 24th - The First Time in a Long Time_

Sleep had refused to come easily that night and Emily ended up tossing and turning for hours before finally giving up on getting any rest. Not wanting to wake Morgan, who was still sleeping soundly, she quietly tiptoed to the kitchen where she could safely turn on the lights.

She paced back and forth a few times, at a loss for an outlet for her restless energy. Her eyes fell on a recipe that had been hastily stuck to the refrigerator door. Peppermint chocolate chip cookies. She frowned consideringly; she knew that some people felt an urge to cook when they were under stress. She, of course, wasn't one of those people. But, right about now, she was willing to try just about anything.

And, if getting elbow-deep in cookie dough was going to take her mind off the dire straights in which they had found themselves, all the more reason to try. So, she stepped out of her comfort zone and pulled on an apron.

As she kneaded the cookie dough, she finally began to understand why people felt the urge to cook when they were under stress. It takes your mind off the issue, even it was just for a little while. If it doesn't, you can vent all your frustration on the innocent cookie dough. Whatever it was, it helped.

It was certainly better than tossing and turning in bed, which would eventually wake her boyfriend up and she knew she would break down again once he held her tightly in his arms and tried to soothe her fears. Getting all weepy and making Morgan worried wasn't doing Garcia any good, she wouldn't want that to happen either. If Garcia was here, Emily was sure she would reprimand her for being all depressed and dark and angsty inside.

As she set the dough onto the cookie sheet and sprinkled it with candy cane pieces, she couldn't help but consider how much her life had changed over the course of a few short weeks. Not even a month ago, she had detested the whole Christmas season and everything about it. And then Morgan came sweeping in, turning her life upside down, and forcing her to rethink everything. Twenty-four days ago, she would never have dreamed of coping with her emotions by baking cookies and yet, here she was...

But, when she considered everything that had happened of late, everything she had done differently, it wasn't really that big of a surprise. She'd gone sledding, built a snowman, written to Santa... She was even a little excited about Christmas day, for the first time in thirty years.

And she knew it was all because of Morgan.

Putting the pans into the oven, glowing with pride that she had managed to get this far relatively incident-free, she set the timer and poured herself a cup of coffee. But her sleepless night and the stressful day had worn her out and she soon fell asleep, hunched over the kitchen table.

Which was the sight Morgan awoke to a half-hour later, along with a strong scent of burning. He couldn't help chuckling to himself as he rushed to the oven to rescue the cookies; she might not be cursed with personal relationships, but she seemed to be cursed when it came to baking. But at least she was making an effort; as much as she hated, or used to hate, Christmas, she was trying to change because she knew how much he loved it. The thought only made him love her more.

Knowing she hadn't slept well, he attempted not to wake her up, but when he opened the oven door, a puff of smoke billowed out, setting off the smoke detector.

At the insistent shrieking, Emily's eyes flew open. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," she apologized desperately, "I didn't mean to wake you up, but I must've fallen asleep and... I'm sorry."

He laughed good-naturedly. "It's fine, I know you didn't mean it. Can you turn off the smoke alarm?" he asked as he pulled the smoking cookies from the oven.

She nodded and pulled a chair across the room to reach the still-sounding alarm. His laid-back attitude about being awoken put her at ease. "You know," she said lightly, "I blame you for this..."

He laughed. "I love you too."

******

"You still awake, baby?" Morgan asked gently.

Emily mumbled softly, her words incomprehensible. She shifted from where she was leaning against his chest, half-asleep. "Yeah," she murmured blearily, "I'm awake..._now_."

It had been a long day of keeping vigil by Garcia's side. And it didn't help that the night before had been less than restful. Now, cuddled up together under a blanket as a fire crackled happily in the grate, Emily could hardly keep her eyes open.

He leaned down to kiss her. "Sorry."

She yawned and attempted to focus her mind enough to be able to stay awake for another hour or two. As her gaze fell on the soft twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, she was struck with a realization. Her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke, "This is the first Christmas eve I can remember being happy... The first time I feel like I've got something to look forward to tomorrow..." Her gaze flickered back to look into his eyes. "And it's all your fault." He laughed lightly and pulled her in for another kiss. She murmured against his lips, "You changed my life..."

"I don't know about that..." he shrugged, "I just made you see the good in what was already there."

Sighing happily and settling back against him, she said, "Well, whatever you did, thank you. I'm not sure I could have gotten through the month without you."

As he gently trailed his fingers over her back, his mind was also racing with the thoughts of everything that they'd been through that month. He'd come to the realization that life was too short; it only took a split second to lose everything and once it was gone, you could never get it back. You only have one chance.

Shifting slightly so he could look in her eyes, he said softly, "Baby, I need to talk to you about something..."

Feeling her heart suddenly fluttering with worry, she sought out his hand, holding it tightly. "What is it?" she asked breathlessly.

He swallowed nervously. "What if we got married?"

"What?" she breathed, "Are...are you serious? Don't you think it's a little soon?"

"I _know _I want this for the rest of my life," he said with conviction, "And after everything that's happened lately with Garcia and with your father and... I don't want to go another day with you not knowing _exactly _how much I love you. I don't want to have any regrets should something happen. I want you to be my wife." His eyes looked intently into hers, conveying none of the nervousness he felt bubbling under his calm facade. "Marry me?" he asked again.

For a moment, she was silent, stunned, as she tried to convince herself that this was really happening.

When she said nothing, he continued quietly, "It's okay if you're not ready, it is a little soon... But whenever you are ready..."

She cut him off, kissing him tenderly. "Yes. I'll marry you."

He smiled brighter than she'd ever seen as he carefully disentangled himself from her to find a tiny box from under the tree. "I love you," he said, slipping the ring onto her finger before kissing her again.

"Merry Christmas, baby," she said with a soft laugh.


	25. Happy Endings and New Beginnings

_December 25th - Happy Endings and New Beginnings_

"What do you think your mom will say?" Emily asked, staring down at the diamond ring on her finger, still reeling with disbelief that the previous evening had actually happened, that she was engaged.

Morgan laughed, "Well, once the paramedics revive her after the shock of the news gives her a heart attack... She'll be pleased as punch."

Emily smiled. "And you're _sure _she'll like me?"

"She already likes you," he assured, "This will just make her like you even more."

She was silent for several moments before quietly thinking aloud, "I wonder what my mother will say..."

"I'm sure she'll be very happy for you." When Emily didn't say anything for awhile, he continued, "There's something else, right?"

Emily sighed softly, stopping her tracks in the middle of the busy airport. Hands on her hips, Morgan leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. "What is it, baby?" he spoke in the soft, low voice that made her insides melt.

"I'm thinking about my dad... I haven't talked to him since that day." She looked at him sadly. "What should I do, Derek? He's my dad and even after all that has happened, I still love him, but I'm still mad at him."

"Why don't you call him now?" he suggested, checking his watch, "We have a good two hours before we have to get on the plane, why don't you meet him here? You want to see him, don't you? You brought his gift..." She raised a brow and he explained, "I saw you pack."

"What about you?"

"I'll leave the two of you alone and, if you need me, I'm just a phone call away," he smiled.

"You're spoiling me rotten..." she sighed.

"You deserve it, after everything that's happened..."

******

Joe Prentiss walked towards the airport's café with a smile on his face and a lightness in his steps, like a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Technically, something like that had happened... His daughter had finally called him. Since the last time he had seen her, he had been waiting patiently for her call and when he finally heard her voice again, he felt so relieved. He'd thought after all that had happened, she would never want to see him again.

As he stood outside the café, he watched as his daughter leaned against her boyfriend. He couldn't help but feel a sense of regret wash over him; he had just gotten Emily back, only to see her lean into another man's embrace, a man she trusted more than she trusted him... He could only blame himself. If he hadn't made that mistake all those years ago, this would never have happened. He wouldn't have lost his family, his daughter, his wife, and all the happiness that goes along with them.

Morgan spotted Emily's father through the window. "He's here," he whispered.

"Do you really have to go?" she half-asked, half-pleaded, "I need you."

"I'll stay if you need me," he assured.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. "I think I'll be okay." He nodded, kissed her quickly, and moved to pull away. But before he could, she tightened her grip on him. "No, don't go!"

He raised a brow, looking at her questioningly. "Which one is it?" he asked.

"Stay," she said with more conviction, "Please."

He smiled, "Anything for my fiancée."

"Oh God, I have to tell him... Is it too late to back out of this?"

Kissing her forehead, he soothed, "Hey, now, you can do this. You don't want to spend Christmas not having made your peace with him, right?"

She sighed, "You're right, I don't want to leave things like this..." As she gripped his hand tightly, pulling him towards where her father was waiting, she whispered, "You know, when we get married, you don't get to be right anymore..."

He laughed, "We'll see..."

******

Morgan intended to get some rest before they landed, knowing that his mother likely had the entire evening planned out and they would be lucky to get a chance to rest, let alone any sleep at all. He had advised Emily to do the same, seeing as he had some plans of his own on how the two of them could celebrate Christmas, but she seemed content to just stare out the window contemplatively, probably still processing the events of the last few days.

Staring out the window as the plane made its way along the runway, she smiled contentedly as she recalled the conversation she'd had with her father earlier. Morgan was right, she felt so much better after having made peace with father. She could finally enjoy Christmas without any burdens in her heart.

They had agreed to work on their issues and her father had also agreed to let her take as much time as she needed to accept him again. Letting out a sigh of relief, she couldn't help but feel an overwhelming excitement for Christmas. The whole traditional Christmas dinner with your family, the gift exchange, cuddling in front of the fireplace and just talking; she'd never had anything like that in her life before and she was so happy that things turned out the way they did. Not that she would ever admit it to Morgan, he'd be more cocky than ever and he had been right about far too many things already.

Leaving her to her thoughts, he began to nod off, well-versed in being able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, seeing as rest wasn't always a plentiful commodity. He was almost out cold when her voice startled him back to awakenness.

"What was that?" he mumbled blearily, opening one eye as he turned his head to look at her.

She laughed slightly, smiling amusedly, before becoming pensive again. "This is the first time I've actually been excited to fly anywhere..."

He found it difficult to imagine how someone who'd spent the majority of her life travelling to exotic places hadn't at least once been thrilled about their destination. His confusion must have been written across his face, because she elaborated, "When I was growing up, getting on a plane meant having to leave behind what meager life I'd managed to build up, having to lose all my friends, and start over in some strange place where I didn't know the language or the societal norms or anything... And as I got older it just got more and more difficult to adapt and change who I was so people would like me; by the time I left home, I'd just stopped trying.

"And joining the BAU didn't really help matters... Not that I don't enjoy what we do, but every time we set foot on that jet, we're setting course for more horrors and depravity, like a homing missile with a set course for everything evil in the world. It just seems like nothing good ever comes out of flying somewhere, so there was no point in looking forward to it." She squeezed his hand lightly, giving a smile as she met his gaze. "Until now..."

He returned the smile. "What makes this time so different?" he pressed, even though he had a feeling he knew what she meant.

"This time, I know we're destined for something good. This time, I get to meet my new family..."

"New family," he mused, "I think I like the sound of that." He grinned brightly and leaned in to kiss her gently. "Merry Christmas, baby."

And, for the first time she could remember, it really felt right to say it. "Merry Christmas."


End file.
